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kth1 · 4 years

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Piquant [Jungkook x Reader]

Piquant [Jungkook x Reader]

Pi-quant / adjective: having a pleasantly sharp taste or appetizing flavor.

⟶ Credit: @kimtaehyunq ⟶ Genre: Smut | 21+ | Vampire AU | One Shot ⟶ Warnings: explicit, sub!jungkook/whiny lil thing, vamp!jk, oral (M&F), fingering, blood/blood play, biting, period blood, noona kink, adult content, bondage(M), unprotected sex, language, semi overstimulation, semi cock-warming, creampie, squirting, roommates to ?, multiple orgasms, etc ⟶ WC: 12k ⟶ Summary: Jungkook is your awesome roommate who also happens to be a vampire. There’s nothing wrong with that of course, even with the playful tactics he does to fluster you. Until you realize those quipping taunts meant more than he led on. ⟶ Teaser: “He savored your flavor; his mouth finally got the taste it has been curious about for a long time now. He wanted more before his taste-testing was over, and he knew exactly how to get it.” ⟶ Author’s note: Hello everyone, this story is a precious gift to @jkeuphoriadreamland – as Yoly fully enjoys a bit of a whiny brat version of Jungkook. And NOONA KINKS. I tried my best to write him as a sub, and I truly hope you enjoy this fic. Nervous as all hell because you are a wonderful, glorious writer; and gifting you a fic of my own makes me kasdjhf. Anyways, this is unedited bc reasons - I had fun being your Peach Peep and writing this for you! (I didn’t mean to make it as long as it did… oops. xoxo)

“You smell pretty tasty.”

“Well, I’m not!” You retorted.

“Let me have a quick taste? That’s all I’m asking for.” Jungkook requested.

“Koo, no! You have plenty of bottles of blood in the fridge – just heat some up.”

Jungkook snorted with disgust, “Tch, that blood is synthetic. It’s not as good as straight from the source.” His finger trailed up the inside of your wrist, his body taking a step closer to yours.

You snatched your wrist back to yourself quickly, glaring up at your pest of a roommate. “Oh no no no – Jeon! You stop that!” Jungkook took another step, a grin present on his sculpted face. You respond with a pointed finger, raising your eyebrows in question. He wanted to play this game again.

“But Noona, please!” He whined with a pout. The vowels drawing out with the sentence with a childish tone, but his eyes shared something deep and dark. Thirst.

“I am not your bloodbag Jeon Jungkook!” your accusatory finger now prodding his chest.

“True, you’re not. But you are my friend.” He smiled, cupping your hands in his, “friends help another out.” He let out a little giggle when he saw your flustered face.

You scoffed, laughing as your roommate continued to plea. “You don’t need help! You have blood in the kitchen! B negative to be exact. It’s a fresh stock!” You shooed him, ushering him to turn around and pushing him towards the opening of the kitchen.

“Noona!” he droned again.

Oddly enough, Jungkook adored using this nickname towards you. Even though he is a hundred and something years older than you, his ripened age of vampire is in his early twenties – when he was changed into one, he found it humorous to call you Noona because your human years have surpassed his frozen age. Thus resulting, in his mind, you being ‘older’ than him. That, and the fact you get flustered up over the nickname.

There’s no doubt in your mind that your pesky little vampire friend could overpower you at any second if he really wanted to, but there was a firm alliance between the two of you. He has control over his hunger after all, he’s not a savage. Just because Jungkook is a vampire doesn’t mean he was a monster. For years vampires have lived among the human race, they aren’t out to rule the world or anything. Just trying to survive like every other creature.

Still, he and you were good friends. Actually, when you first met him you developed one of the biggest crushes on the mysterious vampire – but that feeling subsided drastically when you realized more about his lifestyle.

The two of you met through friends of friends. Trustworthy, as you had his back and he had yours. And now, you two shared an apartment in the busy city of Seoul, making ends meet as he works at the local vamp lounge, being a bartender. You wallow yourself forever in an office desk job providing customer service over a phone and through your computer.

“I swear to god if you ask me one more time, I’m going to throw my silver jewelry at you!” you threatened. “And stop calling me Noona!”

He scrunched his nose, annoyed at your rejection. “Ahh, you’re no fun.” He grumbled under his breath, turning away and departing towards the kitchen.

“It’s my blood! My property!” you yelled to the back of his dark ruffled hair, watching it sway with each of his steps before it vanished behind the wall.

“Then stop bleeding around me! Don’t get another paper cut and I wouldn’t ask!” he shouted from the other room.

The shuffling noises from the fridge to the microwave was audible enough to hear. A hint that he’s reheating a bottle of blood. Luckily for him, you were nice enough to stop by the convenience store on your way back home to pick him up a fresh batch of blood. Picking up his favorite flavor for his special acquired taste.

You looked down at the coffee table that was littered with a pile of mail, some ripped open and some still untouched. Your eyes darted at the piece of envelope that was sharp enough to break through your skin and cause a nasty little cut. You mentally scolded the piece for causing a stinging pain in your index finger. The irony of the rent notice cutting into your wallet was the act paper that cut into your flesh.

With your hand still close by, you examined the cracked cut that adorned a leaky line of red with a bead of blood threatening to drip off. “Wouldn’t ask.” You mocked Jungkook, speaking to yourself. “Oh please – you’re such a begger.” You sucked on your finger, attempting to take the small sting away and ridding your blood while you continued to reorganized the mail on the table.

The audible footsteps of Jungkook resonated as he approached back in the living room, bottle attached to his mouth. You glanced over your shoulder to see what was up with his lingering, and he answered your gaze with narrowed cut, stink-eyes. Sipping bitterly hard on his warm thick fluid drink, he rolled his eyes and continued down towards his bedroom.

He heard what you said.

Jungkook was gone, a scheduled vacation to meet up with some old friends for the weekend. You have the whole apartment to yourself for once, and during this time you had an untimely visit from your aunt flow. It tainted your mood, unwanted pains and cramps forcing you out of whack. Your weekend consisted of kissing your lips to Ben & Jerry’s selection of ice cream flavors, watching movies and downing your own dosage of Advil and other pain killers.

The apartment wafted with your heady scent. Something you couldn’t pick up with human smell alone but to a vampire like Jungkook, he could pick it up instantly. Like a shark in a water, he can catch whiff of all kinds of scents with those advanced heightened senses.

You were fast asleep in dreamland, a heating pad atop your stomach that lulled your cramps at an ease. Curse the world that during this period, your cramps were ungodly painful, and you felt like complete and utter shit.

What you didn’t know was that your roommate had decided to cut his group hang out short – coming back home in the middle of the night. Not like he couldn’t come and go as he pleased – it was his house too. But tonight, it was slightly… different.

He stepped up the stairwell in the apartment complex, fidgeting with the ring of keys in hand. A strange smell entered his nose, something foreign yet so similar to him. It forced him to halt his actions, standing still while looking down the corridor. It was coming from this floor – his floor.

Jungkook reached level 3, turning his way down to his apartment with the scent leading him all the way to the front door. A succulent aroma enticing him, ticking his hunger. He soon realized that sweet pungent smell that he zoned into was your scent – your blood was lingering in the airway in a heavy dosage.

“Oh fuck!” he unlocked the apartment door in a rush, speedily running in as fast as the bulk of your musk entered his sinuses. Immediately Jungkook thought the worst, thinking something happened to you; you were hurt and bleeding out. Were you okay? Why are you bleeding?

His feet brought him to your bedroom door, “Y/n! Y/n!?” he’s frantic. The moment Jungkook busted your bedroom door open almost off its hinges, he was relieved to see you intact and unharmed – seeing your body sprawled out across your mattress fast asleep.

But the sudden commotion jolted you up out of your slumber, the booming sound of your door flinging open and Jungkook’s voice calling out your name startled you.

“Kook?” You whipped your head towards him, a groggy voice to match your terrible bedhead you sported.

“Shit, sorry! Fuck, I didn’t mean to wake you! I just – I,” his thoughts were cut off, that rambling of his mouth seized when you shifted yourself on the bed, rolling the comforter around. The blanket that sealed the majority of your scent now accidentally releasing in a wave, the sweet tangy smell hitting Jungkook face first.

His hand latched to his nose, plugging his ability to smell you any further. Internally he was fighting his natural urge to go for it, to have a taste of this juicy aroma that was causing his mouth to water and fangs to sharpen. This impulse was worse than any other time, like when you got papercuts or accidentally nicked yourself with a knife. You always had a peculiar smell, something that made him curious, and now he’s invested.

He knows he needs to leave the area, go get himself a bottle of blood or find a unfortunate prey on the street, quickly. He can’t touch you; he shouldn’t touch you – but god do you smell so good and your scent was incredibly inviting.

His backpack slunk off his shoulder to the floor with a thud, the intoxicating smell was so deadly that it was forcing a haze of thirst run over him. “I thought you were hurt.” He confessed.

You rubbed your eyes to remove any forming crusts, “Hurt? What? I’m not hurt. That’s why you woke me up?”

Jungkook shook his head, staring over at your confused and puzzled face. “N – no Y/n, you’re bleeding. Like a lot.”

It took moments for you to register what he was implying. Widening your eyes when you finally came to realization. “Oh no… shit. Sorry Koo. I’m fine I swear.”

You scurried, flipping the covers over you to witness a decently large stain that had accumulated through your night shorts. You bled through your bottoms, something you haven’t done in years, yet mother nature is always good at being unpredictable. You sighed, face palming yourself to how you practically ruined the fabrics and it will take a miracle to clean them completely.

Jungkook froze, all instincts fighting to break free the moment his sensory eyes laid on the darkened patch that decorated between your legs. His fist tightened; his body completely stiff with blown out eyes. “Run Jungkook, fucking run.” He ordered himself internally.

You carefully moved your body around, attempting not to get any more blood on your sheets. Thankfully you didn’t have any cramps right now. Typically, you were very cautious around your roommate during times like these. Plugging yourself up with tampons from beginning to end of your cycle, refusing to stay around him or the apartment for too long, even he would take time away to give you your space. It was out of respect for another, established as a primary rule before you two signed your contract to the apartment.

As you hobbled closer towards the door in which Jungkook stood, you couldn’t understand why he refused to move out of your way.

“Kook, I have to go to the bathroom.” You seek to brush pass him but Jungkook’s hand snatched your arm – grip strong.

In a slow raspy voice, he breathed, “Noona.”

You blinked up at him, watching a flicker of red flash over his darkened orbs. You felt caught, trapped by his intense stare. His build was larger than yours, almost menacing when his body hardened to block the frame of the doorway.

“Jungkook… relax…” You felt the temperature of your body shift. Should you be worried? Scared? Embarrassed?

“I can’t.” his other hand held onto your free arm, slowly backing you away from the door with trembling steps. His eyes frantically searched your face, pupils wide while the chocolate brown of his eyes shaded to a vibrant red.

His eyes were demanding, a scare or warning that there was no going back from this. You’ve witnessed this look before when you visited the bar he worked at, when his eyes catch onto a delicious treat in the crowd. It won’t be easy to escape this situation. Jungkook was invested in getting what he wanted, what he was craving…

“This – this would be weird. It’s – Jungkook listen to me for a second.” The back of your legs touched the edge of the bed. “Jungkook!”

He hummed, glossing his eyes over you once more. His tone beckoning you to continue.

“This is period blood!”

He shrugged, rubbing his hands along the expanse of your arms, not allowing you to sit down just yet. He can feel the warmth of your body, how you are much warmer than usual. “It’ll just taste a little off. It’s not like I haven’t had it before.”

“Ew, Kook! No that’s gross! Like, do vampires actually enjoy? This?” You tried wiggling yourself out of his grasp. But he stepped closer – closing whatever distance there was between the two of you. You swallowed thickly, feeling quite intimidated and small under his presence. But you took note, his tight chest now flexed in front of you and hands held firm to your arms as if he was holding onto dear life.

“Y/n.” Jungkook whispers, leaning closer to your head. His phantom breath tickled the shell of your ear, “Please let me have a taste. Can I please…?”

It sounded so sensual coming from him. A shiver running down the base of your spine from the odd request. His hands now ghosted your hips, fingers etching a tingly sensation into your exposed skin. He carefully played with the waist band of your shorts – dipping a finger under it in a teasingly way.

Jungkook was controlling himself to all extremes. He knows he can’t attack you the way his nature wants him to, you’re his friend after all. He shouldn’t be stalking towards you like this. He cannot ruin you the way you’re ruining him right now. But he’s surely thinking about it.

You felt shy, nervous but oddly turned on by your roommate’s intimidation. All his persistence, his pleading whines slowly getting to you. You should feel disgusted – right? The idea of blood, your blood, your period blood, being taste tested by your friendly vampire. Which makes you question yourself even more when you tell Jungkook, “Okay…”

You’re shocked and so was Jungkook. Your confirmation is all he needed to hear, so he didn’t need to stop his action of snaking his hand down your shorts, slowly trailing his fingers towards your core.

A small gasp escaped him the moment the freshly soaked patch on your undies came in contact with the pad of his index finger. The urgency of pushing his finger down onto the cloth to collect whatever residue he could overwhelmed him.

It was an odd feeling – your roommate exploring his wondering hand down your shorts. What you didn’t expect was how it still felt somewhat good. The sudden contact of your lady bits now getting attention not by your own hand, but of someone else’s. Causing your body to jump with a sexual alert and now you’re the one holding onto Jungkook’s arms as if you were going to buck under him.

Jungkook brought his fingers back up to meet his face as he inspected the redden stain that now coated the tips of his digits. A strange manner – something no human in their right mind would do – Jungkook sniffed at your remainder. Naturally this would be so revolting for a human. But Jungkook is a blood-sucking vampire. Any form of human blood wired him up and he lived off of it, literally.

You watched him with your bottom lip between your teeth. You watched as he stuck his fingers in his mouth and exhaled a very audible groan thought his nose.

“Fuuuuck, Noona…” his tongue dragged between his fingers, then lips to savor the flavor. Suddenly his hand disappeared back to the waistband of your shorts, this time less hesitantly now. “You tasted like this all along?” He speculated while advising you to sit down, tugging harshly at your bottoms.

You nervously fumbled trying to catch his hands before he could hoist your bottoms off. He was fast, desperate for more. “Kook! You said a taste!” you squealed.

“I’m not finished tasting!” he growled. A more aggressive side taking over his demeanor. In his swift act of removing your bottoms you heard the ripping of seams. Fabrics pulling apart. Then your used panties and shorts were discarded off to the side – there was no saving them now.

Jungkook held your hands, staring down at your now pinched thighs that hid his juicy treat. He can sense your uncertainty, your nervousness – so he tried to look as apologetically pleading as possible while kneeling down in front of you. “Noona – please!” The pitch of voice didn’t match the way of his eyes that stared you down. “I’ll make it feel good, I promise. Just let me show you!”

He shoved his face between your knees, attempting to pry your legs apart, that strong scent now mere inches away from his mouth. Jungkook couldn’t control his hunger any longer, not when there was free blood just asking to be eaten.

It was almost pathetic at how desperate Jungkook was being, wiggling his head further into you. His eyes glowing pure red as they fixated at the crack between your thighs. He dragged his lips across your skin, planting reckless open mouth kisses. The sight of your roommate on his knees for you sparked a deep desire within your core.

“Kook! Let’s talk about this!” You flushed as you pinched your thighs as tight as possible. Jungkook’s hands firmly held yours still. He grunted at your resounded rebuttal, pleading more with a high pitch – needy whine.

He wasn’t listening, he couldn’t hear you as his hunger took over his senses. His throat felt dry though his mouth watered for your flavor. Heat embedded into your cheeks, rocking a wave down to your bundle of nerves. You squeaked at the shifting movements of Jungkook wedging his face even more. “Kook is this even right?!”

Complete turmoil ran through your mind – you’re sharing yourself with your friend. Someone you had a crush on, and now that attraction crept back up. An act that you two have never experienced before. This wasn’t your average ‘oh here take some blood from my wrist’ situation. Jungkook was aiming for more than just a snack and it didn’t seem like the vampire didn’t mind what-so-ever.

“I’m okay with it Noona – are you?” He nipped your leg lightly, slowly dragging his now sharpened fangs on the soft skin. His lips formed a pout as he looked up at you with reddened puppy-dog eyes. “I won’t bite you.”

Everything about this situation seemed so wrong, but Jungkook was making it sound so right. You never realized how the excitement of the situation was causing your chest to rise erratically, an ache in your core now persistently present and you swore the puddle down below wasn’t just blood now.

You were nervous and body slightly shaking. It’s late, it’s wrong, this whole circumstance entirely dangerous. But that didn’t stop your body acting on its own accord by widening your legs just enough for Jungkook’s head to slip in. A spark lit bright in Jungkook’s eyes when he laid them upon your dirty flower, the sight looking as appetizing as ever.

“Yeah.” You breathed. “It’s okay with me. Don’t bite me or so help me god –“

“I won’t.” Jungkook didn’t hesitate to slide himself in – licking up the blotches of blood that escaped onto your inner thighs. The sensual feeling of his tongue tracing patterns around your pussy.

Lewd noises came from Jungkook, devouring your juice as if it was the best meal on Earth. Satisfaction releasing through his nose that moment the flat of his wet muscle licked up between your lips, flicking at the tip of your clit.

He released your hands as he felt you ease into him, moving them to your upper thighs to kneed lovely circles into them.

“Oh!” you moaned. Your fingers carded though his hair – head nestled deep between your legs. “Koo-!”

He grinned against your sex. A slight giggle escaped his lips, “Yes, Noona?”

Jungkook looked up at you through his eyelashes and with a cock of his eyebrow, mouth entrapping your cunt. He flicked his tongue up you once more just to see your reaction.

You shuttered – back landing onto your mattress. You openly sighed with a ridged breath. The dangerous mouth of Jungkook eating you up like it was his job. “Fuck, Kook.” You giggled at your shameless moans. The feeling of bashfulness creeping up on you from enjoying the sensation, those disgusting thoughts fading away against the immense pleasure. Stimulation being particularly focused on your small bundle of nerves, especially when Jungkook sucked on it.

The mess that dressed your cunt was most definitely already cleaned up by now. But Jungkook continued to pleasure you in return – after all he did say he’d make it feel good.

He savored your flavor; his mouth finally got the taste it has been curious about for a long time now. He wanted more before his taste-testing was over, and he knew exactly how to get it.

“Let me thank you, Y/n…” he purred.

Snaking his fingers under you, he teased the pads of his digits around your entrance. Prodding slowly along with the rhythm that his tongue set. Your cunt clenched around the insertion of two of his fingers that eased in effortlessly.

You allowed him to have a taste and now he wanted to repay you back by giving you a treat you won’t forget. You gasped for air the moment Jungkook’s fingers curled up into the thicket of your inner walls, pressing long drawled out strokes against it.

Your hips bucked, jerking up into the wild tongue of Jeon Jungkook. It was sinful the way he ate you out, and even at the right angle you felt the sharp of his fangs that threatened to dip into you. His word was true, he wasn’t going to bite you, just clean you up.

With the constant thrusts of his vicious digits, he was also swiping out any hording residue of your unfortunate mishap that got you two in this situation in the first place. Of course, this luscious taste is distinct, but Jungkook can also relish in the flavor of your natural essence that extracted from your cunt. And the mix of these two delectable tangs together soon made their way to the top of Jungkook’s palate.

Your body tightened, the sudden rush of your climax rushing through you as goosebumps rise across your skin. The fist you steadily held in his hair, tightened. Your back arched off the mattress, Jungkook’s hand holding your hips securely down.

Vibrations ran through your body while you moaned Jungkook’s name, creaming all over his face. He groaned in return, lapping up every inch of you.

He leaned back, removing his mouth and fingers. Wiping the back of his hand over his mouth, Jungkook peered up at you with constraint. You remained laying, staring at the ceiling and feeling completely washed out. That just happened? You had one of the best orgasms of your entire life all because Jungkook was thirsty?

“You good, Y/n?” A mousy voice drew your attention out of your thoughts, back down at the man who hesitantly stood up. His hands moved your legs back together, and he assisted you to sitting back up right on the edge of the bed.

You nodded, reserving your thoughts for another time as you looked up to Jungkook. His eyes were no longer blood-lust red but instead his wide doe-eyed nuisance you’re oh-so used to seeing. They wouldn’t be so annoying if they didn’t work on you, but they did. Every. Damn. Time.

“I’m good, Kook! Uh – thank you.” Your expression of gratitude stammered out of your mouth faster than you could think.

Jungkook murmured under his breathe, but it was loud enough to hear the “Yeah, of course.”

Oh boy. You can feel it – the awkwardness setting in.

Before there were any more unsettling silences between the both of you, you spoke up. “I should really get myself cleaned up, if you can excuse me, I should really go to the bathroom.”

With that announcement you scurried, more like dashed yourself to the bathroom that was adjacent to your room. Leaving Jungkook to stand in your bedroom bewildered. He glanced down over at your discarded ripped bottoms that lay lifeless on the floor, still stained with your pungent aroma. He faltered battling with his inner thoughts when his lips quivered ever so slightly.

“Fuck.” He seethed the profanity through his teeth while palming over his groin.

It’s been a week since the misadventure that happened between your roommate and you. Determined, you choose to take the path of act-like-everything-is-fine. Nothing was wrong, no of course not. Right?

You had a full week to dwell on these thoughts, by yourself. No interests in opening your mouth about it to your best friends, or any random stranger at a bar or even the same clerk you run into at the convenience store every now and then.

So what – you let Jungkook have a taste of your blood? You’re an adult, and it was perfectly fine! He needs blood to live anyways – if anything you were doing him a favor! So, you told yourself…

But strangely enough after that night, after the mind-blowing orgasm that left your core fluttering for days even at the thought of that night, Jungkook distanced himself from you. No matter how many times you addressed him to partake in a casual event that the two of you normally participated in like enjoying a movie on the couch, having drinks together, running to the store or even playing one of his blasted videogames – Jungkook declined more than often. It was always.

Jungkook was hardly to be seen, stating he picked up more shifts at the lounge or hanging out with others. Meanwhile his nights remained occupied, and your days were busy with your office job – it caused more of a space between the two of you. When his actions persisted, you couldn’t help but think there was something wrong.

By day four of post orgasm those flooded doubts came running in. What you two did wasn’t right, you fucking knew it. Jungkook must have known it too. “This totally fucked up everything didn’t it?” It’s the only excuse you could devise with the series of events.

Now day seven you sat there in the middle of the couch; legs crossed over another as your foot impatiently tapped in the air. It’s been exactly a week from that treacherous night, and the more you thought about the risky behavior you both endured, the more it couldn’t escape your mind. You’re putting too much effort into something that shouldn’t be minded.

At least, that’s what Jungkook was doing – right? Not minding the incident…

With a glass of wine in hand, you sipped with resent as your flickered through the list of movies to preoccupy yourself with. Something needed to stand out, something to distract you from your irritated mindset. Maybe a comedy, maybe some horror with a bit of action?

You settled for something, clicking play and started up towards the kitchen. Swallowing the remains of your glass in honor of filling it right back up to the brim. In the course of your tipping the wine bottle into your cup, watching the dark liquid pour out of the nozzle so fluidly, you heard the entrance of your apartment open up.

That can only be one person – Jungkook.

Placing the bottle of wine back down on the counter, you turn with a full glass in hand. You walked out of the kitchen to be met with the emptying of the living room once again. Jungkook must have bee-lined it straight to his room.

A sudden rage rose up within you, not particularly enjoying this cold-shoulder act Jungkook insisted on giving. You want to confront him; you’re getting tired of this odd behavior and if there was an elephant in the room that refuses to leave then you will kick it out with all your might.

“Jungkook!” You hollered, feet stepping down the narrow hallway towards his room that was hidden in the very far end. “Kook!” Your voice belted his name a few more octaves higher.

Your knuckles contacted his bedroom door, tapping against the wood. “Can you open up?”

Through the wood you can hear the rummaging of Jungkook throughout the room. He was ransacking his drawers, the sound of his chair wheeling back and forth as his steps moved to and fro. “I’m busy right now.”

A stern huff escaped your lips. To calm yourself you took a long swig of your wine, hoping it cooled you down – or even give you more of a liquid courage to speak up.

“It will only take a minute!” You barked.

He didn’t reply back to you, but instead he continued to rustle around his room for god only knows what. With this indication, you felt peeved and your hand was fast to the doorknob. Twisting the handle fast enough to fling the door open so you can face him.

Jungkook was in the midst of tucking in his black fitted button up shirt, belt still hanging loose through the loops. Matching with his black sleek trousers and set of tuxedo shoes that went along with the monochromatic attire for work. For a brief moment, your mind zoned in on how Jungkook would look… when not just dressing, but undressing. That thought bubble was popped abruptly when he whipped his head in your direction and yelled at you.

“I said I was busy!” he repeated, tone fully capturing the blunt of his attitude.

“Jungkook, come on you’ve been avoiding me all week.” You inclined.

Jungkook ruffled out the last bits of his shirt, tapering it into the band of his pants. He fastened his belt security along his waist with the clinks and clacks. “I’m late Y/n. I don’t have time for this.” Jungkook breezes past you towards the bathroom with his stationary bag lugged over his shoulder. He eyes himself in the mirror, tidying up his hair and quickly rinsing his mouth with mouthwash.

Your feet pattered to the bathroom door, now leaning your body against the frame of the entrance. You can notice the harsh side-eye you receive from Jungkook, but you pay no attention in giving a reaction to it. “Kook, what did I do for you to avoid me? Was it because of what happened?”

There was sadness laced inside your voice, but it was taken over by puzzlement. You were just concerned, what happened to the dynamic between the two of you? Why can’t Jungkook even look you in the eyes half the time and run away to steer clear of you?

He spit his mouthwash into the skin, checking his teeth in the mirror for any imperfections. He shimmied the other string of his bag on to his other shoulder and turned to leave the bathroom, seeing that you now stood in his way he gave you an uneasy glare. “Move.”

“What the? No! –“ you protested. Your finger jotted out towards him, “Stop avoiding me!”

He can tell by the flare of your nostrils that you were fuming, and your tone of voice rising with each word you spoke only added to the obvious fact that you were indeed pissed. If it wasn’t for the clear sight that you’re holding up a cup full of alcohol, he’d most definitely would have smelt it lingering off of your breath. Jungkook attempted to grab the glass of wine out of your hand, assuring you that “you probably drank too much already.”

“Hey! – No, give me that!” You argued, holding tight with your fingers circling around the base. He’s shuffling around, pulling at your wrist to let go of the damn thing, but it was when his hand latched over yours that covered the base an unexpected shatter echoed in the apartment.

Wine spilled between the two of you, decorating the bathroom floor and your feet with the murky dark liquid. Pieces of bladed glass scattered around, and you winced when you felt the sudden jab of a shard that dug itself into your palm.

You yelped, jumping back in surprise and pain. You held your hand out, outstretching your fingers to see the blossoming of red liquid leaking from the shard. “Fuckin’ hell!”

“Shit! Y/n, I’m sor –“ Jungkook cut himself mid-sentence after reaching out towards you. The blood oozing out from that blade of glass was spilling out your sweet tasteful scent, and it wired Jungkook. His inner thirst now aroused.

Pain was plastered over your face as you ripped the piece out from your palm. You pressed firmly against the open wound, looking at the mess that is now below you. Glass everywhere and wine seeping into the cracks of the tiles.

Your eyes met up with Jungkook’s just as he was pushing pass you, down the hall and out the front door. Astonished at Jungkook’s utter rude mannerisms, you held your mouth wide open. He just up and left you in the middle of a mess that was caused by him. That you now have to clean up after taking care of this fresh cut inside the palm of your hand.

And he still didn’t answer your questions.

Another week went by with your poor attempts of consulting Jungkook and him avoiding you like the plague. And with the last ‘real’ incidence where the two of you spoke more than a few syllables, you ended up with a fresh cut to your hand and having to mop and sweep up glass shards and your favorite flavored wine off of the floor. And at this point, you felt like you were avoiding him just as much.

The animosity in the air between the two of you went down a gruesome hill. Tumbling down into smithereens where neither one of you can easily look at another. Jungkook still remained busy as ever, staying out of the house only until you leave for work. The only things that made you know he was still alive was the empty blood bottles left in the sink, the shower curtain being tossed every-which-way, and the half-hazard filing through your piled up mail when he picked out his belongings and left yours disorganized.

Needlessly to say, Jungkook stressed you the fuck out. You were bending to his routines, you were seeking shelter away from him, and all casual activity between the two of you completely vanished. Your confusion turned into spiteful hatred, wanting to smack your roommate upside the head.

Now you’re on week three of roommate-distancing. Your room became your safe haven. The living room was a crossfire full of casualties. The kitchen is a death wish. And the bathroom became your secret chamber when you needed to relax with a steamy relaxing shower and your bubbly loofah.

All this time, your mind already grew curious about Jungkook. There was no way you can repress your emotions when it came to him completely shutting you out. But you did stop remembering that night that turned the sequence of things between the two of you. You wanted to forget; you don’t want to think about it – ever.

You spent weeks dwelling over this roommate dilemma, and it tainted your mood entirely. Your job lacked enthusiasm, your tv didn’t please you enough after watching the same junk over and over. Tonight, you felt appropriate to go out for the night, treat yourself. Because you out of all people know you deserve some fun after the bullshit you are handling.

Fuck it – you’re going to the bar.

Pleather jeans hugged your legs, a blouse that you had tucked in lays low on the neckline flaunting your clavicles and upper chest. You jeweled yourself with a silver body chain that connected at your neck and dipped down between your breasts underneath your shirt. To top of your rocking outfit, you selected your best pair of open-toed red high heels lacing up the front and pinning up half of your now curled hair.

After finishing off the last touches of your make-up you gave yourself a quick look over in your standing mirror. Amused with your selection of attire you gave yourself one last twirl before grabbing your purse and heading out your front door.

You just needed time out, grab yourself a few drinks. There’s no shame of going to the bar alone, plus you enjoyed becoming acquainted with the bartenders here and there. It always gave you a sense of comfort knowing, even though it’s apart of their job, you can vent to them about your worries.

The Snake Pit, a clever yet sinister name for a bar tended to be one of your favorite hot spots to visit. Not only it had a dancefloor and an elongated bar that stretched to the full extent of a wall, electro pop music, and it had its own special feng shui to it.

Heel’s clacking against the hard-wooden floor beneath you, you strutted yourself over to an available seat by the bar. You smiled sweetly at the oncoming bartender who was headed your way, “Hey there! It’s been a while hasn’t it, Y/n?”

You handed over your card to the young chipper male who gleamed down at you, “Open a tab for me please. I’ll start with a mojito, Jin.”

“One Mo-Jin-To coming right up!” he smiled, whipping around to grab the appropriate glasses and mixtures. You bobbed your head to the music waves as you checked out the crowds around you. It was packed here tonight, and you’re happy to see people enjoying a great time.

“How’s it been?” Jin questioned after placing the glass on a coaster in front of you. He leaned in resting his elbow against the bar. Jin was a notorious little flirt, but with good intentions. He just wanted to make his customers as happy as possible – or maybe just enjoyed swooning the ladies to give him better tips.

“It’s… alright. Been better. Just needed to blow off some steam. And of course, I came to visit my favorite bartender. Can’t ever forget a face like yours.” You laughed along with Jin, taking a quick sip of your drink. “Oh? You made it a strong one.” You gave him a thumbs up, “yup, definitely my favorite bartender.”

Jin responded with a playful wink before leaning back up to assist other customers who beckoned for his attention. “Let me know when you need round two!”

And round two came sooner than later. Possibly drink three being concocted as you continued to sip down your mojitos like they were juice. When you grabbed your freshly made glass, you made your way to the dance floor to find some fun.

Within the course of an hour the beat of the music picked up drastically. Bodies swayed left and right in formations, lights flickering and buzzing around your sights. You were so into the rhythm that your hips moved naturally to the tunes.

Until a hand grabbed at your waist, turning you slightly towards them. A man slightly taller than you and maybe just as tipsy as you decided to take his chance on dancing with a pretty lady. “Hey!” he slurred over the loud music. “Let’s dance?”

His invitation wasn’t much of an invite, considering that he was already dancing along with you. But you accepted with a wide smile, urging him to come closed so you could relax your arm around his shoulder as you continued to drink. “Might as well, it is a dancefloor.” You giggled.

The bar felt like you were playing musical chairs with suitor on suitor. Eventually your drink vanished completely, and you were on your third dance with another random, but handsome, stranger.

“You smell just as pretty as you look.” He whispered into the shell of your ear, rocking his pelvis into your backside. His hands found a home on the curve of your hips, and you couldn’t help but laugh at his confession.

“That’s got to be one of the better pickup lines.” You hummed. “I’ve heard worse” you teased as you whipped yourself around in place, now placing your hands through the man’s hair. It was thick and hardened with some sort of product. You glanced around at the bar, noticing your favorite bartender flirting along with an innocent girl that sat right in front of him. A couple having a heavy make-out session just a few feet away from their interaction.

But you found a spare seat that was left empty, a motivation for you to go back for another drink? Or just relax from dancing since you felt like you needed a break.

“That’s not very nice,” the man prodded. Nudging your head aside so he could place a tender kiss against your neck.

With reflex you jerked your body away, avoiding the man and pushing him away. “No thank you.”

As you were turning on your heel, the male stepped close to you once more. Arm linking around your body, “Where do you think you’re going? Thought we were dancing?” He grinned eerily, an odd ominous vibe now shining from him.

Your hands came up to shove him away, but there was a movement in a blink of an eye that you didn’t catch. Maybe your vision was impaired, but you could have sworn you were just in the clutches of this man, and now he stands five feet away from you with a bewildered look.

“Back off.” A low grumble resounded next to you, a face popping into your perception. Jungkook?!

Jungkook’s jaw was clenched, grinding his teeth against another as the muscles flexed on the sides of his jaws. His arm was now linked around your waist, holding you close to him.

“What the fuck man?”

“She said ‘no’, didn’t she?” Jungkook challenged the man, stepping in front of you now to face the male. From here you can see his back tensed up under his dark t-shirt. You couldn’t comprehend the duel going on between the two, or maybe you couldn’t hear over the voluminous blaring of techno beats.

When the male fled the dancefloor, Jungkook turned to look at you. “What the fuck Kook!” You blurted. He was taken aback for a second, confused why you’re all of a sudden yelling at him. “Excuse me? Shouldn’t you be thanking me!?”

“Not that. I don’t care. But what the actual fuck?!”

All your pent up and inner rage towards your roommate from the past few weeks was making you hostile. Even seeing his face stirred you up to the point you wanted to hit him for being so idiotic.

“Y/n, seriously. Not right now. I just need to get you out of here. Please.” He grabbed your elbow, leading you a few feet before you tugged back on your arm.

“No!” Your hand gripped around his wrist, trying your damn near hardest to pull him off of you. “You need to explain right the fuck now!” You stomped your feet, throwing a small tantrum.

Jungkook’s patience was very thin, especially when it came to drunk you. He stepped closer, tugging your body next to his. “Fucking listen to me for a second, dammit. I need to get you out of here. I’ll talk to you when we’re outside.” He spat back at you.

“Why?” You rebutted, glaring up at his face.

“Cause you’re fucking bleeding, Y/n! And if it wasn’t for me that sleazy vampire would have had you for dinner!” He bit back. Both him and you were bickering back and forth, drawing attention from surrounding bystanders.

“What’ do you mean I’m ‘bleeding’” you air quoted with your fingers. You belted out an obnoxious laugh. Your unpleasant emotions were getting the better of you – resulting in making an ass out of yourself when all your roommate was trying to do was help you out. “Next thing you’re gonna say is that we’re friends too, right?”

Jungkook’s nostrils flared, his brows raised as high as they can reach. You were acting quite absurd and he didn’t understand what had gotten into you. “Y/n, I can fucking smell you.” He seethed out the words through his teeth. That’s when you noticed his fangs were now elongated and sharp. Jungkook wasn’t joking around.

A moment of realization kicked in and your eyes widened. “Wait, really?” You trembled.

“Yes. Now let’s get you out of here.” Jungkook escorted you through the crowd, hand now holding yours. The two of you quickly grabbed your tab from your helpful bartender while Jungkook looked out for any wondering eyes. If both he and that strange vampire could smell you, he was sure others can too.

Jungkook followed close behind you, being extra protective while scanning the areas outside on the way back to your apartment. When the two of you made it about four blocks down in complete silence, besides the sound of your heels hitting the concrete below, you decided to chirp up. “You said we’ll talk outside. So, talk.”

“Alright. What do you want to talk about?”

Your feet came to a halt, twisting your neck to look at Jungkook who walked a few paces behind you. “Seriously? You can’t imagine anything, not one thing, as to what I want to talk about?”

Jungkook ignored your stare, dismissing the obvious topic of interest by responding with. “Well, it’s easy for a vampire to tell another vampire apart. For one, they don’t have a heartbeat. So, when I saw him up on you, I grew curious.” A smug little grin pulled up on Jungkook’s face.

You balled your hands into fists, frustration pulling on every nerve in your body. “Don’t play coy with me! Stop. Fucking. Ignoring. Me. Jungkook.” You marched yourself right up to where he stood, invading his personal space. “I’m tired of it. Just talk to me. What did I do?”

“Nothing.” He mumbled. “It was me, not you.”

You snorted; the classic phrase used in so many cliché break up scenes. But this time, it’s not a break up. It’s literally two friends who have a weird misunderstanding with another. “Oh? So that’s it? It’s you and so you avoid me?”

“Keep walking, we’re only a few blocks away.”

You shook your head in defeat, crossing your arms and held tight to your body. The faster you get home, the faster you get to clean yourself up and the faster you can close off Jungkook. Little did you know that your furious speedy walk gave your butt just enough jiggle in those pleather jeans you decided to wear. Giving Jungkook something to admire from a far as his senses were being laced with your aroma.

“I’m sorry Y/n…”

“No, I’m sorry I have a shitty friend like you.”

Jungkook kept up with your pace, walking step by step along with your strides. He knows you don’t truly mean the words coming out of your mouth. It was his fault, and he was trying to admit blame for it all.

As the two of you made it up the stairwell in your apartment complex, Jungkook tried speaking up to you once more. “Y/n, look I know what I was doing wasn’t –“

“I don’t want to hear it.”

You slotted the key into your door, twisting it open and walked yourself into the darkness of your living room. Your night out became a terrible mess, rounding back to the initial problem that you’ve been trying to avoid. Once you kicked off your heels, tossing them aimlessly across the floor mat, you did the same to your purse and keys.

“Y/n.” Jungkook’s voice broke through. He reached for your arm, tugging you to face him. “Look I’ll talk all right?”

“Oh? So, I go weeks with being ignored by you, but you can’t last a night when the tables are turned?” You mocked Jungkook, looking at your roommate straight into the eyes.

“I had to, Y/n!” Jungkook pleaded for reason. “Please, I needed time okay?”

By now you were sobering up, any remains of your alcohol intake must have been sweated out during dancing and on your walk home. Jungkook was sporting his infamous doe-eyes while he looked desperately back into yours.

“Time? Time?!” you rose your voice. “Time to be an asshole? Needed time to ignore me when we could have discussed the problem? You literally circumvented yourself away from me for weeks? Was eating me out that terrible?!” Your fingers found their way to pinch the bridge of your nose.

“Whoah! Y/n, Y/n whoah whoah. No!” Jungkook grabbed at your shoulders and leveled his head with yours. Surprise took over his body, clearly the both of you were having polar opposite battles going on with your minds. “No that’s not the – that isn’t. Gah… Fuckin’ hell. Eating you out was great! I enjoyed it.” Jungkook eased his hands over your shoulders, “Wholeheartedly, even when I don’t have much of a heart to comment by, I promise you. I think… it was too good actually. But, that wasn’t the problem at all!”

Your face froze in place with your mouth forming an ‘O’ shape. Only a few times you closed it, just to open it up and speak. “Wait… I’m confused. What’s the problem then?”

Jungkook exhaled a long, exasperated sigh, rolling his eyes at you. “Y/n. Your – uh your blood is a problem for me.”

“Well now I’m slightly offended, Jeon! You said I smelt good!” You wacked his chest with your palm. During which, a brief flicker of red cut through his irises and it made you pull your hand right back from him. It was at that moment, even when Jungkook’s gazed turned to a scowl, you knew he meant something else.

“You should really get yourself cleaned up.” His voice didn’t sound like a sincere worry, but more of a threat.

You snapped back at him, “You should really learn how to control your hunger.”

Jungkook squinted his eyes at you, licking his lips with a fixed gaze. He leaned forward suppressing the enigmatic smile he wanted to show you. “May I remind you, Noona, you’re bleeding right now.”

There it is again, that pet name that he enjoys cooing you with. The name that slightly makes you shy because you yourself don’t know how to react. Or maybe it riled you up, it was his way to flirt around with you shamelessly.

Your heady scent wasn’t as strong as the last time, no not at all. It was as dull as usual when you covered it up with tampons, only a faint aroma wafting from you. Not a pile of blood decorating your skimpy nighties in the middle of the night.

But it was the fact that Jungkook has already had a taste of your blood, he knows what it tastes like. He knows how good that succulent flavor drips so freely from you. Jungkook refuses to let any other vampire pry on you, like that bastard back at the bar. This blood was favorable, and god dammit he’ll protect it at all costs.

You crossed your arms over your body, staring down Jungkook who was quickly turning into the Jungkook from a few weeks ago. “And if I am bleeding, you sir, aren’t getting any of it.”

Jungkook held back his tongue, prodding it against the inside of his cheek instead. Your scent secretly became a dangerous drug for Jungkook. Almost addictive in a sense. He was lucky to have been walking the streets near The Snake Pit, smelling your custom flavor in the air. But he was so completely unlucky when he skipped out searching for a quick drink that he was left thirsty.

And the agonizing walk from the bar back home to make sure you remained safe, getting a nice view of your ass swaying with each step in those tight pants, only tantalized him further because all he could do was sniff you out. You invading his vicinity only teased him worse.

He let out a breathy sigh again, “What can I do?”

“I’m sorry?” You blinked at him.

“I haven’t eaten tonight, and I know there isn’t any more bottles because you stopped buying them… what can I do to get some of your blood right now?”

You quizzed Jungkook, “I don’t know, what can you do?”

Jungkook reached for your hand, unfolding your arms from your front. He raised it to his face, where he placed your palm flat across his cheek. His hunger was forming an empty pit in his stomach, he physically could feel his abdomen churn inwards at the thought of your blood touching his tongue. His voice came out as a soft whisper, “I’m so sorry for mistreating you recently.”

Jungkook’s thumb rubbed along your inner wrist, stepping closer to your body. He can feel your heartbeat pick up pace, the warmth of your hand against his face grew clammier the longer he stared at you. “I – I would really love some, if you let me. I was good to you last time, right Noona?”

His words were sweet, his eyes were sweeter with the pleading look he emitted even when the color of his orbs turned to that deadly crimson. Fuck. You don’t know what it was about Jungkook that triggered you in the most sinful of ways.

Was it the way his smile looked so dashingly sexy even when he’s being a childish punk. The effortless good looks no matter what style of clothes he was wearing? His entire aspect, the living (well actually dead) embodiment of Jeon Jungkook was everything you actually craved.

You breathed, “Yeah… You were very good to me.” All of those memories of that night flooded back. The feelings. The satisfactions. How hot and heavy Jungkook’s tongue felt against your swollen sex.

“Let me be good to you again.” Jungkook advised, kissing your inner wrist now.

“Only on one condition.” You stated as your grab both of Jungkook’s wrists in your hands. You guided Jungkook down the apartment hallway, ignoring the poorly lit areas and towards his room. After pushing open his door with a foot, you pointed to his bed.

“My bed is the condition?” He grinned amused at the option in front of him. Thinking that this condition was nothing serious, but easier for him. He complied to sit down facing you with a questionable look. “What now, Noona? You have me.”

Your hands reached behind your neck, unclasping the body chain you decided to wear out tonight. “This. This is my condition.” You held the long piece of jewelry up. “It’s pure silver. I’m sure you understand.”

Now you drew Jungkook’s curiosity even further, what did you have in mind with that chain? He never knew his roommate was so kinky before. You peaked his interests with entertainment.

“Wrists. Now.”

“But how am I going to be good for you if you cuff me?”

“Do you want my blood or no? Because I’m certain just about a minute ago you said –“

“Okay. Okay. Fine.” He shook his head while displaying his wrists out to you.

The burn of the chain sizzled against his skin as you twisted it around another, tying his wrists together. It was painful for a vampire, not only does it burn but it also paralyzes the affected, so they cannot pull the material off of the area so easily.

Jungkook’s face had irritation written all over it. The pain biting him with annoyance. The only thing keeping him going is the fact that whatever he may do will give him the blood he desired.

“This is for you ignoring me for weeks.” You raised his arms above him, pushing him back onto his bed and securing his wrists to one of the posts with the assistance of a sturdy belt.

Jungkook groaned out, “Hey, I said I was sorry!”

“Apology is not accepted.” You smiled.

He watched you carefully, eyeing your bar outfit, your face, the excitement behind your eyes sparking at the actions you chose to partake in. “So, this is my punishment?” He winked.

You shrugged, making your way over to the other side of his bed to sit down next to him. “I’m pretty sure this is a reward for you, since you want my blood.” You reminded him waving your wrist in front of his face.

There was struggle, Jungkook’s eager bloodshot eyes now zoning in on the span of your wrist. You watched as his adam’s apple bobbed with a swallow. He was thirsty.

When his eyes glanced back over to yours, he had desperation screaming from them. His breath turned jagged, inhaling your lingering scent some more. “Noona – please. What do you want?”

You leaned back laying down and used Jungkook’s abdomen as your pillow, staring up at the ceiling. His innocent pleas sounded mesmerizing to you. You wanted to hear him talk, to confess.

“Besides my blood what do you want, Jungkook?”

Jungkook leered down at you. With this angle he can see the expanse of your neck on show, stretched long and elevated on his waist. He can only dream about sinking his fangs into that supple skin, slurping up whatever poured out of you.

“I want to put my mouth on you.” He declared.

You rolled your eyes, turning to face him. “I said besides my blood.” Indicating that he would want to repeat the same process as last time.

“Not down there. Not right now at least.” His eyes conveyed a secret promise.

A blush snuck up to your cheeks, raising the color of your skin to a warmer shade.

“Would you like that, Noona? Will you let me put my mouth on you?” He said with excitement. The strain of his wrists tugged at the post, Jungkook eyeing you through heavy lids. “Please, let me do something. I’ve been smelling you all night.”

On a whim you perched yourself up over Jungkook, straddling above his waist. “No.” You smiled wryly once you grabbed at the hem of his shirt.

Jungkook parted his lips, licking over his set of teeth. The two of you exchanged a brief heated look, a challenging gaze. Then the sudden tear of his shirt ripped in two as you tore the seam apart with all your might. You exposed his flexed stomach all the way to the top of his chest. “And that’s for my shorts and underwear.”

Jungkook whined, not at the lose of his shirt, but at the bold movement of your actions. It was hot. Your initiative was something he’s never seen before coming from you. And the image of you hovering your dirty flower right above his pelvis is forever going to be ingrained into his memory.

His chiseled upper body was on full display for your eyes now, disregarding the shreds of his shirt still linked around his arms. Fuck, Jungkook was sexy. The entire idea of this sculpted creature under your demand was turning you on second by second and you decided to take advantage of your leverage.

“Noona, just a taste please?” Jungkook begged with a reedy voice. He thrusted his hips up into you, wiggling his eyebrows. He was under your control, completely wrapped around your finger and it didn’t stop him from begging.

You fingered at his nipples, running your thumbs around the softened skin to cause them to perk up. You traced patterns with the tips, running up and down along his abs. “Where do you want to put your mouth?” You inquired. Tapping your digits around his cool skin. “Here?” you prodded, pointing at his upper chest right under his clavicle. “Hm, what about here?” you ran your finger over the prominent vein that bulged out of the side of his neck from constraint.

You watched the way Jungkook’s eager looks turned into anguish, the agony of not having what he craved was tormenting. Your teasing wasn’t helping, you were testing him.

“Anywhere.” He stuttered. “Everywhere.”

Jungkook gasped when you pushed down your weight onto his hips, his growing bulge now receiving attention instead. You smirked; you knew Jungkook was turned on by this. “Jeon? What do we have here?”

He swallowed thickly. Trying to straighten out his mind to respond to you properly but nothing but natural instincts were getting in the way. “I’m hard. I’m horny. And you’re extremely hot right now. As much as I am hungry, I’m thinking many other things about you right now.”

“Enlighten me, Koo.”

Jungkook dropped his head back onto the pillow under him with a whimper. He was parched, he was sexually aroused, and infuriated that he couldn’t do anything about either of them.

“Noona please!” He cried. “Do whatever you want, please. Just help me out.” Jungkook drawled on and on. His wrists continued to strain against the custom-made handcuffs that burned into his skin, rendering him from movements.

Jungkook pointed with his chin towards the junction of your bodies, “Help me.”

It dawned on you, how sleeping with your roommate right now probably wouldn’t be the wises of ideas. And those uncertainties were calculating on your face. Jungkook notices this, jumping at his opportunity to speak. “Y/n. Hey – Look at me. I’m okay with this.” His voice came out soft, still whimpering under you.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. Fuck yes! You have no idea how much I need you to touch me right now.”

You hesitantly unbuckled his belt and unlooped the button to his jeans. His dick was prominently swollen, being constricted against the layers of materials. With a swift tug at his bottoms just below the curve of his ass, you released the beauty of his hardened thick cock, red at the tip with a spruce of precum glossing over the head.

Jungkook exhaled a shuttered breath, his cock aching to be touched. His member twitches cutely at the ghost of your hand hovering above it, and another whine resonated through his nose. You couldn’t help but admire the curve of his dick, the vein that ran over the underside of it. How soft his frenulum looked to the touch.

“Is this what you want Kook?” you firmly grasped at the base of his dick, right above the well-groomed hairs. His hips jolted up at your touch, flexing his muscles and pulling his arms from the restraints.

“Y – Yes!” he choked out. “Help me Noona. I promise I’ll be good for you.”

You didn’t doubt his promised plea. Last time he promised you something he surely delivered it.

You smothered his leaky precum over the head and through the slit. Fisting his shaft nicely just to watch Jungkook thrust his head back further into the bed. The angel of his jaw tilted back that showed up his thick neck was a delicious sight to witness.

To surprise him, you dipped your head down. Kissing your lips to the tip of his dick and running your tongue along the area. You hummed in satisfaction when Jungkook’s thighs started to shake underneath you. Who knew you’d have this power and demand over your friend.

Your mouth sank down, taking him in an inch and he choked out vowels. He tasted of a sweet salt, miraculously this part of his vampire body remained animated. “Noona!” His teeth remained clenched together, fangs threatening to bite into his bottom lip. “Don’t stop.”

The wetness of your mouth coated along the rest of his cock, submerging him as far as you can go and wrapping your hand around whatever portion you couldn’t reach. His tip touched the back of your throat when you took him in. Subconsciously you made sure to suck hard as you pulled away.

A string of saliva linked between your mouth and his dick, thinning out right before it snapped. Jungkook groaned out at the sight. He was painfully hard, and his stomach constantly reminded him he needed to drink before he depleted himself.

He whimpered as you abandoned his member, letting it relax against his stomach. He huffed out with a buck of his hips, “I was good to you last time!” he reminded.

“That you were.” You sat at the edge of the bed, untucking your blouse from the band of your pants. “So good.” You blushed.

“What are you doing?” His kicked you softly with the side of his foot. Your fingers found their way to the zipper of your bottoms, undoing them and shimmying them off. The blouse and bra you wore was soon tossed to the side. “I’m going to ride you if you let me.” You peered over your shoulder, baring your backside to him.

Jungkook’s eyes lit up, beaming the red hues that decorated them. “Yes, please. My god – please ride me.”

You straddled yourself over Jungkook’s waist, making sure not to fully sit down on top of him just yet. You wanted to tease him of the sight from a few weeks ago. Your lovely lady-bits wafting his favorite flavors together. “I guess I was bleeding a little bit huh?” You laughed to yourself.

His mouth watered; lips parted. Your smell lingers into his nose and filled his lungs. Jungkook was thankful you tied him up otherwise he was sure to have attacked you to get this treat.

“Rub yourself on me, please. I want you to coat my dick.”

He caught you by surprise, this lewd sentence spilling out of his mouth. But you conceded, sitting yourself back on his throbbing member, just to run yourself up and down on it. Your wetness caused an embarrassing and loud squelching noise, your taint painted on Jungkook’s cock like a canvas.

He met the swing of your hips with his own, grinding up into your slick sex. His pressure was forceful up into your folds as if his dick was asking for permission to enter you. “Is this what you want?” you teased again.

He nods vigorously, controlling his impulse to thrust up into you. His hunger remained dominant, but the lust for you became top priority.

You locked eyes with him the second the tip of his dick threatened to push past your hole. He was yearning to break through and glide his dick against your velvety sleek walls. His lips are pink and bitten while he continued to let out those cute pleading noises you enjoy hearing so much. Jungkook’s eyes fluttered closed in a tormented bliss.

He was ultimately at your mercy, within your clutches and you could break him at any moment. Leave him hot and heavy to get back at him if you really wanted to. You didn’t speak, just waiting for a sign that he was close to his breaking point.

Jungkook whines again brokenly, “Please, please Noona. I want to be inside you. Can I please?”

So needy. So deprived of his wants and wishes. You feel for him, you really do. Feeling him shake like a leaf from the anticipation of plunging his cock so far up into you. And you allow it.

You leaned down further, allowing just the head to sink in. He groans out your name the moment you slipped him back out, just to repeat the process once again now easing yourself all the way down on him. You stiffed a moan yourself, humming along with the series of loud whiny noises escaping his mouth.

“No more ignoring me, Koo.” You rolled your hips up. “If we have a problem, we should address it. Right?” You circled, bobbing yourself on his cock. “Right?” Your hands found perch on his chest, pinching his nipples enough to harden them and forcing an animalistic growl out from Jungkook.

He gasps, choking out breaths, “Right!” his eyes skewed shut. Jungkook’s wrists were bleeding, pinned together tightly. His lust fogged mind wished to get his hands on you, to guide the movements of your hips or even flip you over just to pound himself inside your cunt.

His eyes opened just enough to stare at the way your body moved on top of him, a small raspy groan leaving him. God you look like a delicious treat – he’s even questioning himself how he lasted this long without taking you before.

The pants that hugged his thighs were preventing him from widening his legs. The fabric softening the blow of your ass landing down on him. The stinging burn of pain mixed with the immense pleasure of your pussy clenching around his smooth cock has got him spinning down in spirals.

“I – I’m, Noona. So close.”

“No.” You asserted, slowing down your pace to a halt. “Not yet.”

Jungkook kicked his feet out, eyes blown wide. “What, Why!?” His cock twitched inside of you the same way his hips jerked up.

“Bite me first.” Your wrist made its way in front of Jungkook’s mouth. His tongue swiped out licking your delicate skin. His mouth latches onto you with no hesitation, the sharpness of his fangs burying themselves inside forcing you to hiss at the sudden infliction.

It was like biting into a peach, liquid spilling all over her mouth. Jungkook sucked with fervor, drinking down your delectable juicy liquid while his hips jutted up into you. He wanted you to continue, keep moving before his orgasm gets denied. He muffled a cry against your bleeding wrist when you swivel your hips at a certain angle.

You were panting in the open air, picking up your speed to meet his urgency. Face gorgeously flustered, unshed tears sparkling from Jungkook’s eyes. Your blood pushed Jungkook over the edge, freefalling down into a pit of pure bliss. He chases his orgasm, using a sharp uncoordinated sloppy thrust to bury his cock deep inside your cunt as he came. Cum jetting out of him in streams like a fountain.

His fangs retracted from your wrist, being replaced with light butterfly kisses over the wounded area. Jungkook flops back to the pillow, short of breath. Portions of your blood smeared around his lips and also his dick.

“Holy shit – “ his words faltered.

You gave him his moment, allowing him to take it all in before you moved off of him. Lifting your body off of Jungkook he cuts your action with a sharp tone, “Where are you going?” His eyes dawdled on your exposed body, forcing you to freeze mid pull-out.

“I? I was going to clean up?”

He shook his head frantically, “Don’t get off me just yet. Ah. You didn’t cum – I want to make you cum.” Jungkook edged his hips up with a spasm of overstimulation, his member hiding back inside of you. “Sit back down on me please.”

He was softening inside of you; you can feel it slowly shrink and the idea of cock-warming to get you off wasn’t something that sounded promising.

“Kook, it’s really okay. I don’t need to.”

“I want you to. Get me out of these chains.”

You sighed, leaning forward enough to hold Jungkook’s cock inside of your super slippery walls. Giving Jungkook the opportunity to place hot open-mouth kisses to your breasts that dangled down in front of him. The make-shift bondage was released, pulling the chains off of his ruined wrists. They’ll heal back shortly anyways.

His hands latched to your waist in a blink of an eye, digging his nails into your skin. There was a pool of mixed liquids between the two of you, glistening in the light. He didn’t bother to yank his pants off, he wanted to focus on you instead. He guided you to run your hips a certain way, tilting them down so your clit can run against his pelvis.

“Hold me inside you, can you do that for me Noona? I’ll get hard again just by watching you use me.”

His voice was filthy whispering those sentences in the air. Involuntarily causing you to clutch around his dick.

“Ah – just like that,’ he cooed. “Play with me, do what you want.”

He continued to pilot your lower half on him, running your drenched pussy into him. Your breath turned labored; clit throbbing with sensitivity from the build up of stimulation. Your hands ran the expanse of his chest, his biceps, around his collarbones and up. Finger’s interlacing with the tendrils of his hair at the nape of his neck.

He was bringing you close to your release just as his cock started stiffening back up. Your breath caught in your throat, a brief squirm of your body reacting to his dick prodding into your sweet spot.

Your mouth dropped open, pleasure taking over your face. “Right there?” Jungkook taunted. “You like my dick against that spot?” You nodded like a bobble-head. He moved you again, repeating the action.

You never noticed how your hips were moving on their own accord now, how greedy you were being as you used your roommate as a pleasure toy. A very hot, sexy, vampiric sex toy indeed.

The moans escaping you were coming out as a song, heighten with each second your lower stomach started tingling. It was happening. You were at the brink of your orgasm, railing your clit into Jungkook. “Fu – fuck. Kook!” Your eyes clamped shut and your bottom lip was bruising from your demanding teeth. “I’m so – gasps – im so close.”

You practically hiccuped the moment his fingers pinched your bundle of nerves, tweaking it between the two digits. Forcing your body to thrust forward with a maddened cry. Orgasm after orgasm erupted through you, vibrations shooting through your body the same way you squirted all around Jungkook.

Jungkook caught you before you could collapse on top of him, sitting his body up so he could hold you in his arms. He petted your hair as you rested your head in the crook of his neck trying to calm down from the aftershocks of your numbing body.

“Hey, it’s alright, I gotcha.”

The warmth of your body captivated him. Your smell of arousal and blood dampening his body and sheets are sure to stir some problems in the future if he didn’t get it cleaned up quickly.

“Thanks…” you murmured under your breath, inhaling his manly scent.

“Clean I get you cleaned up?”

You nodded, circling your arms a and latching your legs around him. Exhaustion was whipping over you and you swore you started to see stars in your peripherals. What was it about Jungkook that caused the best orgasms you’ve ever received?

He chuckled, “Noona, I’m still inside you right now. If I’m gonna clean you up, I need to be able to move. You’ve made a mess everywhere.” He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, trying to get a better view of your blush fucked-out face.

“I feel a little weak.” You embarrassingly whispered.

“Of course you do – I fed on your blood. And you came about 3 times in a row.” He held you tighter, shifting himself to swing his legs to the edge of the bed. Everywhere was soaked. Leaking fluids colliding with anything it touched. It was then he decided sleeping in your clean bed will be easier for the both of you. “I’ll get you something filled with vitamins to help you replenish.” He gave a quick peck to your temple, examining the way you dozed off.

#BAsecretbunny20 #bangtanarmynet #armysource #ficswithluv #btsbookclub #magicshopnet #jungkook x reader #jungkook #smut #bts #one shot #jeon jungkook #vampire au #jkeuphoriadreamland #kimtaehyunq #maknaesmutsociety

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enterprisetrampstamp · 3 years

Note

Fluff #7 Zee & Jai (platonic)

(Featuring Zee Randers and Jai Lee, two smart talking, brilliant, troublemakers ensigns in Engineering. Seen throughout various fics in In the Bowels of the Ship, a series of short Engineering-centric fic)

"You're an idiot, Randers."

Zee grimaced, her movements tender and careful as she eased herself out from under the coupling that had collapsed moments earlier. She'd gotten lucky, the metal piping buckling upwards right above where she'd been standing and only slamming her on the way down rather than crushing her beneath it. "But you love me anyway, Lee," she panted, smoky air filling her lungs as Jai picked his way through the debris towards her, his usually cheerful face screwed up with concern.

"Remains to be--"

KZZZZZZZAT.

An electrical charge arced between two pieces of sparking wiring, and Jai froze, his face pale.

Zee licked her lips, taking stock of the situation. The red alert blared above them, the lights strobing and pulsing through the smoke, but the accompanying screech seemed to have been disabled. Her palms were scraped and bloody, and her bruised-- broken?-- leg throbbed in time with her racing heartbeat. Whatever had happened to her knee, it now felt weak and shaky, and she was pretty sure it wouldn't hold her weight. Her already-voluminous curls were sticking nearly straight out away from her head with the crackle of electricty in the air, and she probably had a concussion. Her laser wrench was crushed into a zillion pieces beneath the coupling that had sent her sprawling. Communications had been useless for nearly an hour, which meant something on the bridge was preventing Lieutenant Uhura from reparing them. It also meant that they had no way of communicating with anyone from Engineering-- or Security, or Medbay-- to call in reinforcements.

And there was a live wire between herself and Jai.

"Okay," she said, voice tight. "Okay, um, maybe if I--"

Jai dragged the back of his wrist across his face, smearing away grease and sweat and the residue of smoke, and he shook his head. His hair was always a little messy, usually sticking up with some kind of gel, but now it fell limp and sweaty and sticky across his forehead. "You need to stay where you are," he told her, firmly. "And I need to..." he turned slowly on his heel, his eyes scanning the curved chrome walls of the hallway.

"You need to shut down power on this hall so you can get to me." Zee fumbled to get the ash-smudged red of her shirt off and over her wild hair, leaving her in the black tanktop underneath. She had basic first aid training, courtesy Starfleet Academy, but who fucking knew what to do with a potentially broken knee? Splint it?

"I know." Jai picked his way back to where he'd started-- where he had tried and failed to grab the back of her shirt to keep her from flinging herself through the unstable hallway to reach the power relay that was about to blow and take the weapons systems down with it-- and started tearing into the broken access panel with the red-hot knifeblade of a laser multitool. "And I need to do it without attracting the attention of any enemy combatants, and without blowing your patch on the relay, which means I can't just reroute the juice through the nearest junction, which means--"

Zee found two of the straightest, least damaged (and therefore least full of sharp edges) pieces of debris she could and lined them up next tp her knee with shaking hands. "Scotty's gonna kill us when he finds out what you're about to do."

Jai grunted. "If we live long enough for Scotty to be the one to kill us, I'm calling that a fucking success."

"And you're usually the optimist," Zee muttered, as she attempted to tear her shirt into strips with her bare hands. Unfortunately, even already torn, it was harder than those fashion design shows made it look, and she gave up and scanned the ground around her for something sharp.

KZZZZZZZAT.

They both jumped as the wires jumped a second time, and Zee's vision nearly went white with the pain from her jostled knee. She gasped for breath, curling in on herself. Fuck, that hurt. Fuck, fuck, fuck--

"--ee? Zee?! Listen to me, Ensign Randers! You've gotta keep it together, bitch!" Jai's frantic goice cut through the white, and Zee blinked away tears as she forced herself to uncurl.

"Who are you calling a bitch, bitch?" she ground out.

Jai's sigh of relief was lost beneath the hiss and creak and spark of the damaged ship, but she could see the rise and fall of his shoulders as he yanked wiring free of the walls of the ship with his bare hands. The elegant solutions would take too long and require tools that he just didn't have; Jai was going for brute goddamn force.

Elegance was overrated anyway.

Zee clenched her teeth and wrapped the bottom edge of her tank top around her hand, protecting her palm as she grasped a sharp piece of metal and quickly tore her shirt into strips. "Almost done?" she asked Jai, panting. She tossed the metal aside and took a deep breath to prepare herself to move her leg so she could get the strips underneath it.

"Almost done," he confirmed, voice muffled like he had his multitool clenched between his teeth.

She didn't have to move her knee much to get the fabric underneath it, but her vision went white again anyway. Zee didn't stop to let it pass this time, just let the tears fall and operated on proprioreception as she slid the torn up shirt through the gap between carpet and pant leg. "Fuck," she gasped.

"Hold it together, ZZ Top," Jai ordered.

Zee bared her teeth in a snarl. "You try splinting your own damn broken knee and then come talk to me about 'keeping it together', jackass." The first knot she tied, six inches above her knee, wasn't bad. Neither was the second, six inches below it. The third hurt. So did the fourth, and the fifth, and by the time she'd tied that many she was panting and crying harder and couldn't bring herself to tie another, so it was just going to have to be good enough. "If you aren't fucking done in the next sixty seconds, Jai, I swear to--"

KZZZZZZZAT.

It wasn't possible to murder an inanimate object, but by god, she was going to try.

"God." Jai grimaced, looking back over his shoulder at her. "You're grumpy when you're performing field medicine on yourself while in massive, debilitating pain." He yanked a few more wires out of the walls, a frownline carved between his eyebrows as he carefully peeled away an inch or so of two of their duraplastic sheaths, and then he carefully isolated those two wires from the rest, avoiding touching the stripped metal with his bare hands. "Alright--" he looked over at her, a wire held in each hand. "This is probably gonna hurt, Zee."

"Yeah." She folded over one of the remaining strips of her shirt and bit down on it, breathing in deep. And then-- on her shaky thumbs up-- Jai twisted the wires together.

A starship was a closed system; energy couldn't just be turned off. It had to be rerouted. Usually, that was a fairly straightforward process that resulted in a surge if energy that all parallel systems were designed to absorb and diffuse as far as possible-- but in avoiding the power relay and its jerry rigged patching, which would surely have failed under that surge of energy, Jai had elected to overwhelm a system that wasn't parallel. A system that really, really shouldn't ever be fucked with.

The force of the sudden increase of gravity yanking at what was certainly now a broken knee nearly made Zee pass out.

She was only dimly aware as Jai-- moving slowly and awkwardly beneath the press of a gravitational field exceeding even Vulcan's-- grabbed her under the armpits and hauled her to her feet, cursing and panting as his stupid skinny self propped up 200 pounds of muscle.

"You've gotta help me, Randers," he begged. "We've just gotta get back past the live wires and then we can reset the grav, but you're too goddamn buff--"

"Maybe next time you'll actually come to the gym with me when I ask," Zee muttered. She forced her good knee straight and-- leaning heavily on Jai's thin shoulders-- she took a staggering step forward.

"Grumpy, grumpy," he panted, hooking her arm more firmly over his shoulders and kicking sebris out of her way as best he could so she could focus on maintaining forward momentum.

An explosion rocked the ship from somewhere deep in Engineering, but Zee honestly did not have the energy to worry about anyone but herself and Jai at that moment. Either Scotty had it under control, or Lieutenants Givens and Singh did, or they were all fucked. No point worrying about it.

"Good enough," Jai panted, helping her to trade his support for the wall's, and then he rushed as quickly as he could over to the access panel he'd desecrated earlier.

Zee took a barely-controlled slide down the wall to sit against it, splinted knee straight out in front of her and her other knee tugged into her chest, her eyes closed tight. For a moment, the smoke of the air tasted deliriously of bonfire rather than ozone and burnt plastic, and she was slammed with the memory of hugging her knee to her chest, just like this, leaned up against her brother's knee as the fire crackled in front of them and their father told some stupid story about their baby sister the dragon slayer and her trusty steed, their geriatric labrador retriever. It had been cold in the mountains that time of year, the Blue Ridge stretching and rolling across the horizon, ancient and beautiful.

She could claim she'd never done stupid shit like this back home, but it would totally be a lie.

With a yelp, Jai undid his dirty deed, and suddenly Zee could breathe again as the weight lifted off of her chest. He sprinted over to her, grabbing her under the arms and sliding her quickly on her ass across the floor, further away from the live wires, just in time for--

KZZZZZZZAT.

"Come on, grumpy," he panted, and this time she was able to help him get herself back on her feet. "Let's go dodge some hostiles and find our way to Sickbay, huh?"

"Thank you," Zee mumbled, as she shuffled along at his side, just barely putting weight on her splinted leg and mostly using him as a human crutch. "Jai, I--"

"Hey, you probably saved the ship, patching that relay to keep the weapons systems online. Least I could do was save you."

Zee snorted. "Nothing to do with being my best friend or anything," she agreed.

"Obviously not," he retorted archly, as they found their way into a less smoky hallway of the ship. His voice dropped to a whisper automatically, as they left the sound of frying circuits behind them. "What am I, some over-emotional bitch or something?"

"Yes."

He burst into laughter and then quickly-- guiltily-- slapped a hand over his mouth as he shot her glare. "I hate you," he mouthed.

"I hate you more," she mouthed back.

(I'm taking prompts!)

#a tramp stamp original #zee randers #jai lee #I wrote this #which was my actualy fic tag apparently #haha was this supposed to be fluff? lmaooooo #zee and jai are mlm/wlw solidarity at its finest

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drethanramslay · 4 years

Note

Please could I request 19, 46 and 97 with Ethan and f!mc As fluffy as you can make it 🙌 Thank yooou

Thanks for the ask anon!!

And let the writing spree commece 😉 you can find the prompt list here

#19- God, you are so fucking cute.

#46- “Please don’t say that about yourself. Please don’t believe that. You’re so much more than that. You’re so…”

#97- “I apologise sincerely if my handsome/beautiful face has kept you awake all night.”

Taglist: @miyakokurono @trappedinfandoms @openheart12 @sekizincimektup @junggoku @ethandaddyramsey @edith-eggs1 @ethanramseysgirl @samihatuli @loveellamae @x-kyne-x @paulfwesley @zeniamiii @binny1985 @an-urban-witch-ig @ramseyegerton @noboundariesplease @mrsdr-ethan-ramsey @newcolonies @mkamra2355 @unluckygs @choices-love-affair @choiceskaavya @caseyvalentineramsey @ohramsey @virtualrain202 @squishywizardhq @itsgoingnuts

(i you want to be added to the taglist let me know:))

warning: mention of suicide, and i promise its fluff

ICE CREAM

Ethan was walking down the hallway, towards the reception, his eyes focused on the chart in his hand. It was the end of the day and he usually didn’t like taking his work home, but he couldn’t stand being in the hospital any moment longer.

He hadn’t been home for 2 days and there is only so much napping you can do on the rusty beds in the on-call room before you craved your own mattress.

He stopped by and signed a couple of release forms. He was so engrossed in his work that he didn’t notice someone standing behind him.

“Ethan?” The feminine voice called out.

He turned around and his blood ran cold.

“Oh, my beautiful baby boy!! You have grown so much.” Ethan’s mom threw herself at Ethan and Ethan’s eyes widened, not knowing what to do, or what to say.

There aren’t any guidelines on ‘how to behave when your mom turns up after 25 years’ that you can read up.

He slowly peeled her off of him.

“What do you want, Barbara?” A look of pain passed on her face.

Ethan narrowed his eyes, crossing his arms, reinforcing the walls all around his heart, his eyes turning steely.

“I- I missed you.”

Ethan scoffed. He turned towards the counter and resumed his work, hurrying the hell up so that he can get away from the ghost of his past.

“Ethan, please. I’m so sorry, I made a mistake and I’m here to fix-”

That’s it, I tried to be patient but this woman won’t get the fucking hint.

He gently grabbed his mom by the arm and pulled her into the nearest conference room. He didn’t need his personal life to be the gossip of the hospital.

“No. You do not get to say that.”

“But I me-”

Ethan held his hands up, stopping her. “No, you don’t. You can’t call it a mistake now. It’s 25 years too late. I know you are here only for my money. You may have played my dad by luring him into the false security that you are here to 'fix things’ but you can’t fool me.”

“Ethan, I would never-”

“Please. I saw you shoplift from the store near your motel. Don’t lie. You are just a con artist trying to hurt dad all over again.”

“How do yo- oh! It was that girl, wasn’t it? What’s her name… Garcia!” She said as she snapped her fingers.

Ethan stood towering over her staring down at her with the coldest eyes. “You do not deserve to speak her name. You do not deserve to be in the same space as her. You do not deserve to breathe the same air as her because she is everything that you aren’t. She is loyal, caring and supportive. She is a thousand times the woman you will ever be.”

Ethan stepped back and tugged on his jacket. “Now get the hell out of here and don’t show me or my dad your face. Otherwise, I swear to god, I will get a restraining order.”

Turning on his heels he stomped out of the room. He was so blinded by his anger that he almost trampled over Leah.

“Woah there, big man! I’m just a small bean, don’t trample me.” She said as she steadied herself by grasping his strong arms.

“I’m sorry Garcia.” He said as he put his hands on her waist, trying to balance her. Leah blushed and looked up but the moment she saw the torment on his face, the smile dropped and concern schooled her features.

“Ethan.. what happened?”

“I-” tears welled up his eyes and Leah knew that it was a serious situation. She grabbed his hands and pulled him into an on-call room and locked the door. She made him sit on the bed and she sat across him, crossing her legs.

She reached and grasped his hands. “Tell me what happened. It’s just you and me.”,

“My mom is a fucking cockroach that j can’t seem to get rid of. She has already invaded my dad’s life and he fucking let her. I spoke to him the other day about how I hated that, she was back in his life. Am I really that worthless that he won’t listen to his son?”

“And that’s not it, she fucking pretends that she knows me!! Does she know that dad cried to sleep for so many days?! Does she know that I was fucking bullied for 7 years and it was so bad that I was fucking depressed and suicidal?! Does she know that she is the cause of all my problems?!” His voice cracked as he bent his head down, grief overcoming him.

Leah’s heart was breaking for the man in front of her. He didn’t deserve this shit. He deserved the entire fucking universe and if she could, she would lay it at his feet.

“I’m just a fucking curse. I’m worthless and I-” He sniffed.

“Please don’t say that about yourself. Please don’t believe that. You’re so much more than that. You’re so…” Leah’s voice cracked. Ethan was one of the strongest people she had ever meant and to see him cry, felt like a stab in the heart.

She straddled his lap and held his face up so that his troubled blues could meet her warm brown eyes.

“Ethan.. you are the strongest person I have ever met. You are selfless and are ready to give it all up for your patients. You are a loving man and you could go to the ends of the world to for your loved ones. You are deserving of EVERY damn good thing in this world. You are a great leader, mentor, son, you name it.”

Ethan blinked and a lone tear fell down his face. He had never seen anyone, not even his own father shower him with such affection.

How did I get so lucky?

Leah wiped the tear off and caressed his defined cheekbones. “I’m not lying. I am so fucking lucky to be in a world where you exist. Without you, I wouldn’t be where I am..”

“God, you are so fucking cute,” Ethan said lowly as he grasped her hand, which was resting on his cheeks. He squeezed it in gratitude.

“Yeah, I know. So does that mean you will buy me ice cream?”

“Wait.. isn’t it supposed to be the other way round? You treating me."Ethan asked with one eyebrow lifted.

"Nah, my emotional quota for the day is over.”

They laughed as they stepped out into the night. It was already twelve in the night and they drove all around the city searching for an open store.

——————————————————————————————————–

“What’s your favourite colour?” Leah asked him as she dug into her Ben’s and Jerry’s.

“Hazel… Like your eyes.” He said cheekily as he nudged her shoulder

“OOF! Ethan, you are so cute.” She blushed as she dug into her tub.

After a moment of silence, Ethan looked down at his watch “Sunshine, it’s 4 am. I can’t even go to sleep now.”

“But you aren’t sad anymore.” She gave him a soft smile as she leaned on his shoulder.

“That’s true… But still, I like sleeping!”

“I apologise sincerely if my beautiful face has kept you awake all night.”

“No, you don’t you little shit.” He rolled his eyes. Leah just gave a coy smile and snuggled into Ethan, a little more.

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cassiopeiassky · 4 years

Text

When Everything’s Made to be Broken (I Just Want You to Know Who I Am) Part 54

Hey look at me go, it hasn’t even been a month since my last update (yes, my bar is that low)! Hey I hope you are all doing alright. These are scary times, remember to do your best to take care of you, I know it isn’t easy. Be as kind as you can to yourself - you deserve it.

So this part is dedicated to @iwillbeinmynest - happy late birthday, my darling Kate! I hope it’s worth the wait <3

This part is also dedicated to the great Stan Lee. The world he created gave me a safe place to escape to when my own world was too dark to survive. I owe him so much, and this chapter is so unworthy but it’s all I’ve got. I can only hope that he’d get a kick out of his cameo.

Plot: When you inadvertently become a witness to a murder and are suddenly a target for death, it takes a specially skilled soldier and his team to keep you and your family safe.

This will eventually be a is a reader x Bucky fic. The reader, by the way, is a civilian. No super powers, no fighting skills, and by no means perfect.

Word count: 4891

Warnings:

For the entire work: Language (I have a potty mouth), violence, and angst. This will probably get pretty dark later on, and there will be smut. If that’s not your thing, you may want to avoid this story.

Additional warnings specific to this part: Feels and emotions. Therapy, mentions of trauma. They’re dealing with the aftermath now, so there are parts that are kinda heavy.

***I do not own any of the lyrics/music in this story, so please don’t sue me for using them***

Tags moved to the end.

WEMtbB Masterlist

Previously on WEMtbB:

“Look, I think it’s safe to say that we all know you can take care of yourself. You don’t have to take it if you don’t want to.” The covers slide down, showing his torso as he sits up to face you. “That said, I’d like to remind you about a certain conversation we had at home about us taking care of each other. I know I didn’t specifically include my team at the time, but they’re your team now, too. They’re your family. You know this. It’s okay to let us take care of you – shit, Sweetheart, you take care of us all the time.”

“Okay, but cooking dinner for everyone isn’t the same thing as a credit card.”

“Doll, you don’t want to eat Stark’s cooking. Please, I beg you, let him reciprocate with American Express. You can’t get food poisoning that way.” The look in his blue eyes would be comical if he didn’t seem quite so serious.

You’re still uneasy about having access to someone else’s money, but you reluctantly concede. They are family – Thanksgiving and Christmas should have already proven that to you, even before they did what they did to save you. Still…pride, independence, and your improved but still deeply embedded insecurities are trying to make their insidious whispers into roars. “It’s weird,” you finally mutter as you fiddle with one of your stuffie’s satin lined ears.

He snorts and nods. “I got a metal arm and Stevie and I both have three digits to our age, Banner goes from mild mannered doctor to a big green rage monster when necessary, Stark flies around the world in glorified soda can, and I haven’t even introduced you to the witch, the god, the floating red guy, and the…I don’t know, whatever the hell Loki is. Trust me, Stark giving you a credit card so you have a little bit of freedom while you’re here is the least weird thing about this situation.”

Well, when he puts it that way…

“Why is it so loud?” Bucky watches as you pace in front of the expansive bedroom window, phone at your ear. The ringing is practically echoing, it’s distracting and –

“Breathe for me, Sweetheart.” Steady hands grip your shoulders, interrupt your restless movement, and kinda sorta help to ground you.

Shit. Your heart is hammering almost as loud as –

“Hello?” Familiar. Hopeful. Safe. You should reply, tell her that it’s you, but you’re too busy hanging on to the sound of her voice. “Hello? Hello?!” Annoyed. Indignant. Already ready to hang up.

Your lips finally allow a smile at the sound. Seriously, your mom has the patience of a 2-year-old on a sugar high. It’s good to know at least this hasn’t changed.

Right then and there, you promise yourself to never again take her phone calls for granted. “Hi, Mom.”

Silence. Then tears, followed by questions, answers, questions, answers. You weren’t sure you’d ever hear her voice again, so she has to occasionally repeat things because you were so focused on the sound of her talking – you had to repeat several times too, and you’re sure for the same reason. Yes, you’re safe. Yes, you’re sure. Yes, the boys are doing well, and they miss you like crazy. Yes, your mom followed the instructions of the team and kept things quiet. No, she wasn’t happy about it. Yes, Wanda and Vision are still there – they are going to help your mom with the transition of your return and letting the rest of the family know what happened. Yes, the boys finally settled into a routine and their sleep schedule is back to somewhat normal. Yes, you were shot in the leg but you’re healing well. Yes, you should be home soon. Yes, you’ll give her the details later. Yes, you really are safe. Really.

Loud giggles and doors slamming break through the stream of conversation and your heart moves back up to your throat. It feels life forever since their voices graced your ears and you can’t wait to see what they have to say. But you’re not ready. What if -

Tears and a smile are in your mom’s voice. “Grandpa and the boys just got back from the coffee shop – he was showing them off to the other old hens again. Do you want to talk to them?”

Mouth suddenly dry, you nod, but that doesn’t do any good. She can’t see you because you’d decided to call rather than use video chat; although much better than it was, your skin is still healing and you don’t have any make up yet to hide the fading bruises.

“Honey?”

“Yeah, Mom. Put them on, please.” Bucky leads you to sit at the edge of the bed before climbing up behind you to rub your shoulders.

“Breathe, Sweetheart.” Bucky’s steady presence is a lifeline. The gentle admonition brings you back – breathe in, breathe out. Almost giggle when you hear your mom swear and fumble with putting the phone on speakerphone; there’s a good possibility the boys have learned some new language.

“MommaMommaMomma!!”

As quietly as you can, you choke down the sob that is steadily working its way out. God you’d missed Jimmy’s voice.

“Hi, baby. I love you so much.” It’s all you can manage just now.

“I love you, Momma! I miss you. Come home now!” in your mind’s eye you can see his dimples, how he’s trying to cradle the phone to his ear because he doesn’t quite get the idea of speakerphone, how he’s probably jumping up and down. His words are clearer than they were when you left…how much has he grown? How much did you miss?

“Have you been having fun with Grandma and Grandpa?”

“Yep! We went with Grandpa. We got donuts! And uncle Jerry was there! He gave us a toy. Come home now, Momma. I want to show you something!”

Every bit of your focus goes to listening to your son, to his words and trying to decipher just how much he’s changed in the weeks you’ve been apart. He clearly had an explosion in his language development and it kills you that you missed it. “I’m working on it, baby. I’ll be home soon.”

“Bucky? Bucky, too?”

That brings a smile to your face – you should have known. “Yes, Bucky, too.”

Your mom breaks in, sounding more than a little concerned. “Are you sure you’re really safe?”

“Yeah, I am. I promise.” You’ll tell her a million times if you need to.

“So then why is he coming home with you? Why do you still need the protection?”

Oh, shit. Right. She doesn’t know. This conversation should probably happen in person. “Um…I’ll explain later. But I promise, everything is fine. Hey, can you put Artie on the phone?”

“Honey, he, um,” in the background you can just barely make out the sound of your dad trying to convince Artie to come out of the bathroom, “he’s –“ an ungodly screech pierces the air, “he’s just –“

“He’s mad. He doesn’t want to talk to me.” Damn. It hurts just as much as you thought it would. “It’s okay, Mom.” It’s not. Not at all. “I’ll try again later.” That’s the truth, at least.

“He just needs a little time. He took it really hard when you had to go. Well, they both did, but Artie especially. I couldn’t convince him that you were trying to come back.” She knows what happened, at least the broad outline of it; there’s no judgement in her voice. “He, uh, he thought –“

Might as well just say it and spare your mom the discomfort. “That I left just like his daddy.”

There’s a long pause before she finally answers. “Yeah.”

What can you even say to that? You certainly don’t blame him – you’d had that very thought yourself.

Jimmy’s earnest little voice breaks in, “Momma, Artie loves you. He’s bein’ a butt right now. But he loves you.” He’s a perceptive little man; it’s good to know that’s still the same. A sob and a chuckle mix ungracefully, but that’s okay. And since when did Jimmy start calling people ‘butts?’

“Thank you, baby. Um, Mom?”

Her sheepish voice comes across just a second later. “Sorry, honey. He probably got that from me.”

A laugh, small but genuine, comes out. “That’s okay. I learned all my best phrases from you, so I guess we’ll just call it the family legacy.” Deep breath in. Out. “Hey, I should get going. I need to get my leg checked out before I meet with the person coordinating my mental health recovery care.”

“I – okay, honey. I love you so much, and I’m so glad you’re safe.”

“I love you, too, Mom. Jimmy?”

“I love you, Momma! I don’t want you to go. Come back. Please?” His cheerful excitement is replaced with an almost palpable desperation, and just like that, your heart breaks all over again.

“Yes, baby, I’m coming home soon. I’ll call you later today, okay?”

“Promise?” He sounds suspicious but hopeful.

“Yes, I promise.”

“Okay.” Jimmy sounds resigned, and you can hear your mom prompting him in the background. “Love you, Momma.”

“I love you, too, Jimmy. So much.”

“Later today? Before bed? You will call?”

“Yes, Jimmy. I promise.”

“Okay bye!”

There’s just a bit of silence before your mom’s voice comes back. “He’s going to be okay, honey. They both will.”

You can only hope. Swallowing hard, you continue, “Hey, can you please put the phone by wherever Artie can hear me?”

“Yes…here you go.”

“Artie? Baby?” There’s no response, but you knew there wouldn’t be. “Artie, I love you so much. I’m so sorry that I had to leave, but I promise I’m coming back. Okay? I love you so, so much. It’s okay that you’re mad. I understand. I will call later today, and if you feel like talking, I’ll be here to listen, okay?” Still no answer. You will never know how you managed to keep the devastation out of your voice. “Okay. It’s okay. I love you, baby.”

Footsteps, and then, “He loves you, too. He does.”

You nod, even though she can’t see you. “I know, Mom.”

“It’s just going to take some time.”

“I know.” You hope, anyway.

“You’ll call later?”

“Yes, absolutely.”

“Alright honey, you take care of yourself and get better, okay? We all miss you.”

“I know. I miss you, too. I miss you so much.” You stop to clear the thickness out of your throat, “I’ll talk to you soon.”

“Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

It’s too hard to say goodbye, so instead you just end the call and put the phone down. Time to get ready for the rest of the day.

* * *

“Do not hold your breath, dear one. Breathe through the movement,” Galina coaches gently as she guides you through some strength exercises.

You’ve already been at this for 45 minutes, and you still can’t get over the fact that your leg doesn’t hurt like you think it should. There’s a deep, almost bone shaking ache to it now that you’ve been pushing yourself a bit, but it certainly isn’t what you would have expected from a recovering bullet wound.

“Good,” she watches with an eagle eye as you correct your breathing, “very good.”

“This is weird. I’m not complaining, but my brain just seems to not want to accept that my leg is better than it thinks it should be.”

She laughs a little as she taps some notes into her tablet. “I suppose it makes sense that there is a bit of dissonance between your brain and body; most patients with this type of injury would still be recovering in the surgical ward. You are very lucky to have received Dr. Cho’s patch. I have seen injuries like yours that have resulted in a lifelong limp, and that was with good care and a qualified physical therapist.”

It hurts your heart to think of the things she’s seen – legs with a permanent limp seem like the least of the potential horrors. You finish your reps, then rise to stand next to her. “Thank you for taking care of me, Galina. I really do appreciate it.”

Her hand reaches to cup your cheek, “Dear one, it is my pleasure. Thank you for allowing me. It cannot be easy given everything you have been through.”

It baffles you how she can be so concerned about you – she’s lost everyone she loved most, and it makes you wonder how she can keep going, how she can even smile. Throwing any sense of formality to the wayside, you pull Galina into an impromptu hug. It’s easy to see she doesn’t mind. You’re far from the only person in this building that is in the process of healing.

When she pulls away, you’d swear there are tears in her eyes but you don’t get the opportunity to ask before she starts speaking. “Would you like to join me for some coffee? Or do you need some rest before you meet with Dr. Lee?”

“I’d actually love some company – and the caffeine is a bonus. Bucky said he’d probably be at least 2 hours with his therapist, and I’m trying not to sleep during the day so I can get back to a normal sleep schedule.”

“Mmm,” Galina nods drily, “Jetlag is a heartless bitch, yes?”

You burst out laughing at her comment. It feels good. “It is. It really is.”

* * *

“I don’t know why I’m so nervous, Buck. It isn’t like I’ve never seen a therapist before.” The two of you are standing outside the room serving as an office for Dr. Lee, and there’s a heavy dread hanging over you at the prospect of walking through that door. “I mean, for fuck’s sake, I want to be one. What is my problem?”

Bucky rubs your back as he holds you close. “Do you want me to stay with you?”

The deep breath you take fills your lungs with his comforting smell, grounding you. “Mmm,” your voice is muffled from having your face smushed into his shirt, “that’s actually really tempting.” The breath is released in a somewhat defeated sigh, “But I need to do this on my own. I, um, I also don’t want you to have to relive my experience.” You can feel that he’s about to protest, so you quickly continue, “I know you’d go – and I thank you for it – but I don’t know that I can be completely open and honest with my therapist if you were there because I’d want to protect you from hearing it.” Shrugging as you take a step back, you meet his troubled eyes, “I know you know what happened. But that doesn’t mean I want you to hear me say it. And yes,” you cut him off before he can interrupt, “we will talk about it. In time. It’s not that I’m trying to keep anything from you because I’m not. I just –“

“It’s different when you’re talking to a therapist.”

“Yeah,” you sigh, relieved that he understands. “It’s different.”

A hug and a kiss and five minutes later find you sitting across from an older gentleman with thick 70s style glasses. His kindly smile flashes beneath a thick, grey mustache as he rolls up the sleeves of his sweater.

You feel like you need to say something to fill the silence. “Um, thank you for meeting with me, Dr. Lee.”

“Oh,” his smile is meant to put you at ease, and it does, somewhat. “No need to be formal. Please, call me Stan.”

Nodding, you swallow hard.

He begins with explaining how this will work – he’s having this meeting with you in order to pair you with a suitable therapist from his team, who then will fly in later today to begin working with you tomorrow. Stan and his partner will remain onsite with you and Bucky as long as you are in New York, and will then do remote sessions for as long as needed. He’s happy to work with you if for whatever reason your therapist doesn’t work out, although he prefers under normal circumstances not to work with both halves of a couple. This doesn’t faze you – it’s pretty standard practice.

Next are the inventories – of course you score astronomically high on the anxiety inventory and moderately high on the PTSD inventory, but surprisingly low on the depression inventory. By the time you’re finished discussing them and your one month, three month, and six month goals, you’re fairly comfortable with Stan. He’s nice and gives off a sort of wise, grandfatherly type vibe. You can see why Bucky thinks so highly of him.

Then it gets ugly, but you knew it would. In broad strokes you begin telling him of your experience. Every now and then he asks for more details or clarification, but for the most part he just listens and makes occasional notes.

Starting at the beginning brings some happy memories, once you get past the whole watching someone die and then having someone shoot at you part. Yeah, saying goodbye to your mom was hard, but you still had hope that you’d see her again someday. Then there was getting to know Bucky and the team. Did you expect to find a best friend and fall in love with him? Did you expect that this group of extraordinary individuals – people that you found intimidating and at first wrongly assumed you’d have absolutely nothing in common with – would become family? God, no. But you did, and they did. There was fear and uncertainty, but there was also joy, acceptance, and love. At the safehouse, in the most unexpected way, you found healing and a deep peace you’d never known before.

But then you recount falling sick from Metzger’s poison and the indescribable pain of leaving your kids…and Bucky. As you describe Anatoliy and Nikolai Krakken – their threats, their causal cruelty, their laughter – you break into a cold sweat. Nausea comes in waves with mentioning Grigory and Alric Metzger, and you’re almost drowning again in helpless desperation when you remember how they read Bucky’s second set of trigger words and the things they made him do. You mostly stay away from the complicated confusion regarding Bucky’s part in your rescue; at this point you know you love him and that you harbor no resentment – you meant it when you said there was nothing to forgive – so the rest of the feelings that you can’t quite figure out can wait.

You tell Stan of being locked in that godawful room for days on end under endless threats of harm, and the waiting. God, the waiting – waiting to see what they would make Bucky do next, waiting to see if he did it, waiting to see when they would finally follow through with their terrible implications. Then of course there were the little ways they would humiliate you, the dehumanizing way they refused to let anyone use your name, the misery of the formal dinners they forced you to attend…and…and the…the uh…

Mikhail.

Stan keeps telling you that you’re okay, that you’re safe. You know this is true on some level, but you sure as hell can’t feel it without –

“Bucky,” you finally gasp, and Stan acquiesces immediately.

Bucky must have been just down the hall, because his arms are around you within a minute of Stan’s call. It’s strange, you think, that the tighter he squeezes the easier it is for you to breathe.

When the room finally feels like it has enough air for the three of you, you continue, “I’m sorry, Stan. I didn’t expect to be quite this fragile.”

Even though you’re looking down into your lap, you can feel two sets of eyes boring into your skull.

Stan clears his throat. “You said you were going to school? You want to be a therapist?”

You nod first, then answer almost absentmindedly, “Uh huh.”

“Mmm. Would you expect one of your clients to apologize for their emotional reaction while describing their trauma?” As pointed as his question is, Stan’s voice is gentle.

He’s not going to let you not reply, so you give him the obvious answer. “No. Of course not.”

“So do you think it’s reasonable for you to expect yourself to not be, as you put it, fragile?”

“Um…” You can practically feel Bucky daring you to deflect. “No.”

When you finally look up, Stan is nodding. “Right. Cut yourself some slack. Don’t hold yourself to expectations that you wouldn’t expect others to meet.”

He’s right. You know he’s right. “Easier said than done.”

“But not impossible,” he winks. “You and Bucky are remarkably similar in this aspect. With you, you’ve got extremely high expectations for yourself. With him, it’s –“ Stan looks to Bucky, “May I discuss your progress a bit?”

“I already said you could,” Bucky smiles, then takes out his phone when it buzzes. His features twist into something unfamiliar, but only for a second. Turning to you, he apologetically shows you the screen. “Nat’s here.” His voice is tight; he tries to hide it but you know him too well. “She got impatient and wants to take you shopping this afternoon. What would you like me to tell her?”

“If I may,” Stan looks to you both, “I would recommend that you go shopping. Today.” His face is stern as he looks to Bucky. “With Nat. And only Nat.”

Bucky manages to look both nauseous and sheepish as you glance between the two.

His phone buzzes again as you bite your lip. “Um, I’ll go.” You can’t say that you feel great about it; in fact, the idea of being separated from Bucky is mildly terrifying, but that’s kind of Stan’s point.

“Good. Bucky, go ahead and meet Nat while I finish up here. Have lunch together, and when they go shopping, you come here for your next session.”

Bucky nods but looks to you before moving.

“I’ll be okay, Buck.” Surprisingly, this feels like the truth. “Go ahead, I’ll join you when I’m done.”

“Alright.” Bucky hesitantly gets up, but stoops to press a kiss against your forehead. “I’ll see you soon.” He clearly doesn’t want to go, but his respect for you eventually wins.

It’s quiet while he exits, but then Stan allows himself an almost satisfied smile. “You know, Bucky doesn’t give himself enough credit. I’m not sure if it’s the serum – if it also helps strengthen the mind as well as the body – but when he allows himself to be, he’s one of the most mentally and emotionally healthy people I’ve ever met, and I don’t just mean in spite of his trauma. He knows what to do, he knows how to communicate, which is especially important. The problem is, he sometimes gets in his own way. Kind of like you and your unrealistically high expectations for yourself. I think for a long time it was a way to punish himself, almost a self-sabotage. He’d learned to deal with the trauma but not so much the guilt. He felt guilty not only about what he’d done while under HYDRA control, but also for falling victim to the torture in the first place – something he recognized no one else could have survived much less ignored, but he still wouldn’t even consider forgiveness for himself. He felt guilty because he thought he should have been strong enough to withstand it. Normally the guilt and trauma would go hand in hand, and dealing with one would deal with the other, but not in Bucky’s case. He’d managed to separate them and not allowing himself to deal with the guilt was holding him back.” Stan picks up a pen and starts tapping it against his chin, “He always wanted to get better, to be better. He just couldn’t always convince himself that he deserved it. You, though, you were – and are – his motivation to stop punishing himself and let go of the guilt. Seeing and working with him today,” Stan shakes his head, “in spite of his new trauma, the improvement I see in him is incredible. He wants to get better, but more importantly, he’s allowing himself to get better. He’s stepping out of his way.” Stan narrows his eyes at you, “Just like you need to do. And that’s only going to happen if you cut yourself some slack. Perfection is an illusion and it has no place in healing.”

“I know,” you exhale heavily.

“Do you?”

“Yeah,” you admit, “I do.” Your being hard on yourself isn’t exactly a secret, even to you.

“So what would you tell me if our positions were switched?”

You sort of hate the way he’s going about this, but at the same time you have to admit it’s effective. “I’d tell you that all of your reactions are perfectly normal and that your emotions are valid. I’d tell you to remember that progress isn’t linear, and that having a bad day, week, or even month doesn’t mean progress isn’t being made. I’d let you know that being with a therapist is a very specific type of vulnerability, and that it’s okay to feel and express those emotions.”

“And?”

“It’s okay to need help. And other people.”

Stan leans back in his chair, seemingly satisfied. Smug bastard. “Good. Well, I think I’ve got a good grasp on your particular needs, so I’ll have one of my colleagues, Dr. Patrice Cortez, fly in tonight. I think she’ll be a great match for you – we graduated in the same class and have been working together ever since, but she specializes in women’s trauma. I will still be available to you, of course, but as long as you are comfortable with her when you meet her tomorrow, she’ll be your primary therapist.”

“Okay.” Genuinely grateful, you smile. “Thank you very much.” Suddenly exhausted, it takes a monumental effort to begin to rise.

“One more thing.” He waits until you sit back into the couch. “And this is something I’ve addressed with Bucky, but since you’re here I’d like to mention it to you, too.”

“Okay.”

Stan looks up at the ceiling like he’s physically searching for the right words, “Your relationship is nothing short of extraordinary.”

Oh boy, here it comes. You know it’s coming from your mom, but you didn’t quite expect it here. Well, maybe you did. A little. “Are you going to tell me that it’s superficial and based on stressful circumstances, and that it won’t last in the real world?” You’d bristle if you had the energy, but as it is it just comes out flat.

“What? No, God no,” he speaks quickly, “Although that does happen. And I’d say that a majority of bonds that are formed under such stress don’t survive because they’re based on necessity, and once the necessity is gone, so is the bond. I don’t think that’s the case with you and Bucky, though. It’s fairly obvious that you were friends first, and that your relationship is built on that. Unusual circumstances threw you together, but the friendship grew organically, if quickly.”

You relax, just a bit. It’s been on your mind; not that you doubt your feelings – or Bucky’s – but you do know how it looks. And just like the first night the team found out, your relationship with Bucky is something you’re prepared to defend.

“The thing I wanted to mention is the danger of co-dependency.”

Ah. That makes sense.

“You two have been through a lot. A lot. And it’s good and important that you can lean on one another, inspire and encourage each other, and grow together. But it’s also important that you grow on your own. You are two individuals sharing a life. If you can’t thrive separately, then in trying to thrive together you will choke each other out.”

You nod – he’s not wrong.

“Did Bucky mention that he is having a difficult time with the idea of you going shopping with Nat?”

You think for a moment. “No, but I guess I assumed it wouldn’t even happen until tomorrow, so we really haven’t talked about it at all.”

“He is. He’s struggling with the idea of you being without his protection, even though you are certainly more than safe with Nat. Bucky is almost paralyzed with fear that he will lose you. And I can see that the idea bothers you as well.”

“Yeah,” you admit. “Even though everyone seems to agree that the threat is over, it’s still scary.”

“It is. It absolutely is. But is it healthy for either of you to live in that fear?”

Exhaling deeply, you answer honestly. “No. It isn’t.”

“Right. Although it is certainly understandable, it isn’t healthy. Now, I’m not suggesting that you two separate. Quite the contrary, actually. It’s just something to be cognizant of, something to keep in mind as you start the healing process. Push your boundaries early and often, and I think you’ll surprise yourself. You are both incredibly resilient people.”

“I, um, I do worry that I’ll get too needy, if I’m not already. And then sometimes I worry that I’ll push him away.”

“And he worries that he’ll suffocate you with his desire to see you safe. It’s why he asked me today to make sure I have a session planned with him when you go out, although I think he also expected it would be tomorrow.”

Another deep exhale.

“The therapy program we’re putting together for you two is pretty intense. But for what it’s worth, I think you’re both on the right track. Just make sure you allow yourself to feel what you’re feeling – but be careful of focusing too much on the bad because your anxiety can and will manipulate your perceptions. Remember that it’s okay to feel contradicting emotions, and trust yourself. Rest in each other and support each other, but don’t depend on each other for healing. That’s something you need to do on your own. Perhaps together in parallel fashion, but still individually.”

“Hearing this is oddly comforting,” you admit.

“Based on what I’ve seen, I think it’s because it’s stuff you already know. I also suspect that it was perhaps how you two operated before you were taken, but after what you went through you just need to feel like you have permission to put it back into practice.”

Why does everything make so much sense when Stan says it? “You know, I think you’re right. I – I don’t think I’ve ever worked with a therapist like you, either through school or personally. You’re very effective.”

He smiles broadly, “Well, being on the team serving the Avengers is fairly unconventional, and sometimes we have to modify programs in unusual ways to fit our clients’ unique needs. Which is what any good practitioner should do, really.” He shrugs, “But rest assured that our methods are grounded in evidence-based practice, and that my entire team is held to the strictest standards regarding ethics and client outcomes.” Stan leans forward, eyes sparkling, “And we have very good outcomes. It’s going to take some work, but you, my dear, are going to be just fine. And so is Bucky.”

You find yourself nodding. You believe him.

@hellomissmabel @howdoesoneadult @nykitass @danimuhle @iwillbeinmynest @shifutheshihtzu @passiononfire @learisa @widowvinter @kaaatniss @ladylizzieofdarbyshire @denialanderror @k-nighttt @givemethatgold @manders2487 @afangirlrambles @polkadottedpillowcase @bluebrrn @saysay125 @aikibriarrose @saharzek @mmauricee @imhereforbvcky @whenallsaidanddone @supernatural508 @scarlettsoldier @natalie-nightcourt @im-beautifully-sewn @lovemarvelousfics @feistytravel @tbetz0341 @nearly-whitches @jamie-leah @shliic @dessinemoiunehistoire @lucywinchester2000 @solarbarnes @a-proper-chicken @movingonto-betterthings @seekingkairos @part-time-patronus @natashasnight @fairislesheets @beccaanne814 @jamesbarnesappreciationclub @scottish-pepper

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky imagine #my work #when everything's made to be broken (i just want you to know who i am)#part 54 #wemtbb

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whelvenwings · 4 years

Text

Thanks (for being an asshole)

Dean/Castiel, 4.4k, AU (no supernatural), Breaking Up & Making Up, Angst with a Happy Ending.

Dean and Castiel broke up two weeks ago, and Dean's been a wreck ever since. Tonight, he's heading to Charlie's apartment for some ice-cream, alcohol, and a TV marathon - or so he thinks. Charlie, however, has other plans for the evening, and who might be there to have a long talk with Dean.

Read it here on AO3 if you prefer!

--------------------------------------------------

Dean had been promised ice cream and a TV marathon and beer - and maybe something stronger - and that was the only reason he was leaving his apartment for the first time in two weeks.

It was bitterly cold and apparently he needed to have a look at the Impala’s heating system, because as he drove towards Charlie’s place the air coming out of the vents was doing a great job at speeding up his fingers’ journey towards frostbite. He turned on the stereo, and a song came on that he knew. Led Zep, obviously. Castiel would have -

Dean’s stomach clenched and his chest ached and he said, out loud,

“Nope.”

He wasn’t thinking about Castiel. Not today. It had been two weeks of thinking and thinking and thinking, and today he was giving it a rest. He was going to go to Charlie’s place and watch whatever crappy TV she put on while attempting to drown himself in a potent mix of alcohol and Phish Food.

He turned off the stereo. The silence wasn’t much worse or better. When he had nothing to listen to, he thought about Castiel; when he had something to listen to, he thought about Castiel with a backing track. It wasn’t much of a choice.

Phish Food. Phish Food and old soap operas and no ex-boyfriends.

Even thinking about Castiel as his ex-boyfriend made Dean’s grip on the steering wheel tighten.

When he pulled up outside Charlie’s apartment, he took a moment to gather himself. He’d been avoiding Charlie’s calls for days up until this morning, and he was pretty sure that if she didn’t see him today, she was going to chase him back to his own apartment and force-feed him Ben and Jerry’s finest herself. Even still, he didn’t want to go in. He just wanted to start the Impala’s engine again and drive away. He wasn’t hungry for the ice cream. He didn’t want to be seen by anyone. Charlie would know as soon as she saw his face that he was broken.

Dean felt raw and razor-sharp. He was in tatters and ribbons and he knew that it showed and he didn’t want to damn well cry in front of anyone tonight.

He wouldn’t, he wouldn’t. He could stop himself crying, he wasn’t two years old. He was doing it now, after all, wasn’t he? It wasn’t so hard.

Getting out of the Impala, Dean slammed the door behind him and headed inside Charlie’s building. It was a shabby, nondescript place with an elevator that was a little past its best. The sign had some graffiti on it, so that it read,

No More Than 6 00000 People in this Elevator at One Time. Thanks for being an asshole

Dean stared at it.

Thanks for being an asshole, Castiel had pointed out to him, the first time Dean had brought him to meet Charlie.

Thanks for being an asshole, Dean had joked, when Castiel had stolen all the blankets, the first night they’d slept in the same bed.

Thanks for being an asshole, Castiel had said, when Dean would get hard-headed in an argument, give him the silent treatment.

Thanks for being an asshole. Their get-out clause, their password, their grin in the middle of their worst times. They’d had problems, sure. But they’d always got themselves back out, together. Dean had meant it when he’d said thank you for them. He’d been grateful, in a way. Because if he was annoying Castiel and Castiel was annoying him, it meant that even through the worst of their crap, they were holding onto each other.

And now Dean was reading those words for the first time since the break-up, and he wanted to laugh and he wanted to hit something. He could hear them in Castiel’s voice. His throat felt choked. His hands were fists by his sides.

Ding!

The elevator’s doors rumbled open. Dean walked out of it on legs made of concrete, feeling like a part of him was still back in there reading those words, over and over. Before he walked down the hallway to Charlie’s door, he took a second to lean against the wall and try to pull himself together again. He was never going to make it through a long night. He needed to go home and sleep more. But he could at least show his face, stop Charlie worrying about him.

When he peeled himself off the wall and walked down towards Charlie’s door, he found that it was already ajar. Frowning, he tapped his knuckles on against it as he stepped inside.

Charlie was standing in the tiny hallway, her hands on her hips, looking expectant.

“Hi!” she said, stepping towards him.

“Uh… hey?” Dean said. She was wearing a thick winter coat and boots. “Are we going somewhere?”

Grabbing him by the arms, Charlie swivelled them around in a half-circle and then backed out of her own front door, and promptly slammed it in Dean’s face.

“What?” Dean demanded. “Charlie?!”

“It’s for your own good,” Charlie said, and he could hear the sound of her keys in the lock. “I swear to god, Dean, I’m doing this for you, okay? Please don’t hate me.”

“What are you talking ab-”

“Dean?”

Dean went quiet and still. He knew the voice that had sounded from behind him, inside the apartment. He’d know it anywhere.

“Charlie,” Dean said in a low, threatening voice.

“I’ll be at the Starbucks down the block,” Charlie said through the door. “And Dean, I know you probably could break my door down, but please don’t do it. I’ll be back in an hour so just hide in the bathroom if you have to. Don’t break my door. Okay bye!”

Dean slammed his fist against the door, furiously, as he heard her footsteps start to recede down the hall.

“Charlie! Don’t you dare walk away, don’t - don’t - ah, shit.”

In the distance, there was the far-off ding of the elevator.

She’d really gone. Dean was locked in here.

He turned around. Standing opposite him now in the hall, there he was: the person Dean most and least wanted to see in the whole world.

Castiel. He looked -

Well, he looked like a wreck, if Dean was being honest. He had big dark shadows swooping under his eyes, and his hair was a mess, and he seemed to be wearing a new blue bathrobe and old pyjamas with his snowboots at the bottom.

“Did you walk here in that?” Dean asked, at the same time as Castiel said,

“You look terrible.”

Dean wanted to hug him. Not in a stupid airy-fairy sweet way. He wanted to hug Castiel so tightly that it crushed him. He ground his fingernails into his palms.

“Charlie told me we were having a movie night,” Dean said.

“She said to me that she had some of my stuff that she wanted to give back to me. From you.”

“So you came in your freakin’ pyjamas?”

Castiel looked haughty.

“It’s none of your business anymore,” he said.

Dean pulled a big cold smirk.

“That’s right,” he said, “It’s not. Get hypothermia. Whatever.”

“As though you’re the height of fashion, today. How long since you shaved?”

“Not your business anymore,” Dean said tightly.

They stared at each other for a long moment. The light in the hall flickered. Dean was so angry he could weep. He wanted to hit the wall.

“Are we going to try to break out?” Castiel asked.

“‘We’ aren’t doing anything.”

“Then in the absence of a better plan, I’m going to go and sit down,” Castiel said calmly. “And wait for an hour.”

“Dibs on the good seat.” It came out almost automatically - just the first thing Dean could think of that would make Castiel annoyed. C’mon. Feel something. Fight with me. Why exactly Dean wanted a fight wasn’t important. He was so angry that it burned. Him. Castiel. Alone. In an apartment. Fucking Charlie. Dean was ready to physically fight whoever was nearest.

“No,” Castiel said. “I was here first -”

“Doesn’t matter. I called dibs,” Dean said, stepping forward as Castiel turned away towards the living room.

“I called it before you were here.” Castiel was obviously trying to act dignified, but he made a rush for the chair as soon as he heard Dean coming up behind him; Dean grabbed for the back of his bathrobe, and pulled hard. Castiel turned to push him off and the two of them squabbled, ungainly, moving into the living room step by awkward step.

“It’s my turn ,” Castiel said, with Dean’s arm at his throat. “You had it last time we were here.”

“That was before. ”

“Before what?”

“‘Before what?’ Seriously?”

“Before breaking up? That makes a difference?”

“What, it doesn’t make a difference to you?” Dean shot at him.

Castiel glared at him furiously, and then with a twist of his shoulders he was out of the bathrobe and dropping into the best seat in Charlie’s living room. Dean was left standing with the gown in both hands, holding it tightly.

That had been all wrong. The physicality of it. They weren’t supposed to touch anymore. They weren’t supposed to even see each other, that was the last thing Castiel had said before he’d left - but thanks to Charlie, that part was already wrecked.

Dean sat down on the second-best chair. It had a hard upright back that no amount of cushions could improve.

They sat in silence for some time. Dean pulled his phone out, and tried to call Charlie. Her number was unavailable. He texted her, and then texted Sam, and Jo, and even Bobby. Stuck in hell at Charlie’s please come, emergency.

When he glanced up, he saw that Castiel was looking down at the floor.

No one was replying to his messages. Dean put his phone on the arm of the chair, where he could definitely see and hear it if someone answered.

The seconds ticked on.

Castiel. Dean didn’t want to look at him, and also wanted to look and look and look, because this… he thought he’d already had his last chance to look at Castiel, to be in the same place as him. He’d been tearing and twisting himself into pieces over that for two weeks, and now he had another chance. Here. In this awkward living room, with everything and nothing to say to each other. It felt like coming up for air and finding it was poison gas, and breathing it anyway.

“How have you been,” Castiel asked, eventually.

Dean said nothing.

Castiel breathed out.

“Fine,” he said. “Don’t talk to me.”

“I just don’t wanna talk.”

“You never want to talk.”

All Dean had been thinking about for two weeks was the things he wanted to say to Castiel. He had reams and reams and reams of words locked in his head.

“Nope,” he said.

He caught the look on Castiel’s face, the half-second blanch of pain before it was smoothed over with a resigned shrug.

Dean didn’t want to talk. He didn’t want to talk. He wanted to stay shut up tight and safe and not say a single word, and -

Minutes passed.

That look of hurt on Castiel’s face kept cracking against the back of Dean’s mind like a whip.

You never want to talk. Nope. Crack.

Dean swallowed hard.

Stupid. Stupid words. Stupid Castiel. Stupid Charlie. Stupid goddamn situation. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

“I’ve been okay,” he said. Grunted, really.

Castiel looked over at him.

“You have?”

A long pause.

“No,” Dean said.

Castiel’s mouth twisted up ever so slightly to one side and Dean knew he was trying not to show that he was sad. He wanted to pull Castiel in, hold him together. He wished the living room were smaller and they were crushed together, no escape from each other. He wanted the whole world to be so tiny, right now, that they couldn’t be apart by even an inch.

“You?” Dean said.

“No,” Castiel replied.

Dean nodded.

This room wasn’t claustrophobic enough. It would be a mistake, an embarrassment, a vulnerability, to choose to go over to Castiel now. Dean wanted it to be a necessity, not a choice. He wanted the world to give them no option.

“I keep thinking about that night,” Castiel said.

“When you left?”

“When you told me I had to go.”

“I said maybe you should go,” Dean said. “You were the one who actually did it.”

“You wanted me to.”

Dean’s head jerked up.

“Is that what you think?” he demanded.

Castiel swallowed visibly.

“You think I wanted you to go?” Dean pushed.

“I…”

“Seriously?”

“How am I supposed to know, Dean?” Castiel said, and the pain in his voice was thin as a wire and sharp as a barb. “When you’re angry you just shut me out. You can’t wait to get away from me. You won’t even look at me.”

Dean put his head in his hands.

“I didn’t want to go,” Castiel said. “I didn’t want any of this. But when you can’t stand to be around me…”

“That’s not true,” Dean said, muffled by his hands. Somehow it was easier to talk into them, in the dark.

Castiel didn’t say anything.

Dean took his hands away from his face.

“Then why do you avoid me?” Castiel asked. “When you make me angry, I tell you, and we talk about it, and then it’s done. But when you’re angry, you never say anything, and I have to guess what I think that you want, and this time… everything pointed to you wanting me to leave. Just like it always does. And this time, I actually did it.”

“You knew I didn’t want you to leave,” Dean shot back.

“You didn’t want me to?”

“Really? You’re gonna play it that way? Like you didn’t know?” Dean said. “Jesus.”

“I didn’t know, Dean.”

There was a ring of truth in his voice that brought Dean up short.

“But that’s not - obviously it’s not like that,” he said. “Obviously I didn’t want that.”

“It’s not obvious. You never say anything. Nothing is obvious.”

Dean glared at the floor. How to explain himself? How to tell Castiel that when he was angry, it felt like he was carrying round a bomb and if he talked, if he said one word, it would go off and explode on them both?

“If I talk to you about that crap, you’ll leave,” Dean said.

“I already left,” Castiel said, “because you didn’t.”

Dean paused to take that in.

“But when I’m angry…”

“I screwed up,” Castiel said. “I upset you. I was always going to because people are never going to be able to agree all the time. You’re going to be angry at me. And I wanted you to tell me.”

Dean snorted.

“What’s funny?”

“You don’t actually want that,” Dean said.

“I do.”

“You don’t. You really don’t.”

“You don’t think I want to know about what you’re thinking?”

Dean shrugged.

“I think me being angry is a me problem.”

“Right. So that’s why you said I should leave.”

“I said maybe you should leave.”

“You gave up,” Castiel said.

“ Me? You left!”

“You told me to.”

“I didn’t really want you to…”

“How was I supposed to know that, Dean?”

“You can’t tell that I don’t want you to leave? You can’t tell that I care?”

“I know you care,” Castiel said, angrily at first, and then again, quieter. “I know you care.”

There was a pause.

“Maybe I should’ve tried harder,” Dean said after a while, trying to keep his voice from being too thick with feeling. “That night.” Castiel, across the room, put his head on one side. It was such a familiar gesture that Dean almost broke.

“You always try your hardest,” Castiel said. “I do know that. You just try your hardest to keep me out, most of the time. Not let me in.”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Dean said. Castiel went still.

“This is -” he began, and then cut himself off. Dean looked up at him. “Nothing you could say,” Castiel said carefully, “could be worse than the things I imagine you thinking.”

“Like what?”

“Like you’re glad I’m finally gone,” Castiel said, so quickly, so easily, and Dean could tell how many times he must have thought it. “Like I’ve been hanging around for too long, all this time. Like your life just got so much easier and better without me in it. Like you’ve wished I’d leave for so long, but you didn’t want to hurt me by telling me. Or you just couldn’t be bothered.”

“Couldn’t be…” Dean’s stupid choked-up throat was giving him trouble. And across the room, Castiel wasn’t helping, looking as though he were barely holding it together. Dean gritted his teeth. “It’s nothing like that,” he said.

Castiel raised one shoulder, slightly, eloquently.

Dean took a minute, and then a minute more.

Damn it.

“These last two weeks,” he said, and then stopped, and then started again, looking at the floor. “These last two weeks the thing I’ve thought about the most is how I won’t get to see you again. I haven’t been out my apartment in two weeks until tonight and the whole drive over here I was looking for you on every corner. I don’t - how long am I gonna do that? I haven’t spent a damn second of my life ever wishing you were gone.” Across the room, Castiel looked unconvinced. Damn. It. “What I, uh. What I think about is how - how now we’re broken up your face is going to change when you get older and I won’t know what you look like anymore. Someone else will, maybe. Not me. And I keep thinking that they might be able to - they might feel - for you, I mean - but it won’t be even a - a small… thing - compared to what I - and Cas, I wish that I could give you…” Dean couldn’t go on. He took in a breath, and let it go.

Every word felt like a fire ant bite. And the only reason he had any of it in his head, the only reason he could talk at all, was because he’d spent so much time recently lying in bed trying to explain himself to a Castiel that wasn’t there. Before two weeks ago, he wouldn’t have had a word to say.

When he looked up, eventually, he saw that Castiel was sitting with his bare arms folded, his eyes on Dean. He looked cold, and Dean realised he was still holding the stupid bathrobe in his hands.

“Shit,” he said, standing up. He held it out. “Here.”

Castiel got to his feet, and came near. Dean pressed his lips tightly together. Hard. Strong. As cold as he could be, after saying all that. He’d never spilled so much all at once. It was too much.

As he took the bathrobe, Castiel’s hands brushed Dean’s.

Don’t, Dean wanted to say. Don’t. I can’t touch you if it might be the last time.

Castiel wrapped the bathrobe around himself again, and tied a knot at his waist. The cord, Dean noticed, was the one from Castiel’s curtains at home, an odd shade of purple.

“You look like a wizard who just got kicked out of magic school in the middle of the night,” Dean said.

“Thanks,” Castiel said.

“For being an asshole?”

Castiel was half a step away. He was watching Dean. There was something in his face that hadn’t been there before Dean had said all that crap - a kind of intensity that Dean recognised. Dean swallowed. He wanted this, he wanted this, he wanted it so badly that he couldn’t speak - but he also knew that he couldn’t stand it, could not stand it, to touch Castiel now and then have him leave. But he couldn’t stand to be here and not hold him, either -

“I can’t do this,” Dean managed. “Cas, I can’t. Not if we’re over.”

Castiel watched him, those eyes of his clouded with thought.

“You’re an asshole,” he said, after some consideration.

“Uh…”

“You are. You’re an asshole. You push me away even though you don’t want to. You’re my best friend, and you act like I’m your worst enemy.”

“Well -”

“It makes me angry, Dean. I’m angry and I’m telling you. And later maybe I won’t be angry, and I’ll tell you about that too. I’ll tell you right now that these two weeks have been hell, in case you couldn’t already tell from the fact that I walked here in a bathrobe to get the things I thought you’d dumped here at Charlie’s for me. I’ll tell you that hearing your voice in the hallway when you arrived was like coming home. I’m telling you because I want you to know... you can’t switch off saying just the bad things. You switch off the good things, too. And I wanted to hear the good things, Dean. I wanted to hear all of it. You were thinking things like that about me all the time? And you let me think you wanted me gone? You asshole .”

Dean’s heart was beating a mile a minute in his chest. He felt hot all over.

“Good things,” Dean said. “That I think about you? You wanted to hear them?”

“If there were any,” Castiel said.

The sincerity with which he said it made Dean want to hit a wall all over again.

“You - you think I don’t think nice things about you? But I do things for you, all the time...”

“You do things for lots of people, Dean.”

“But you - it’s different, it’s special…”

“Is it?”

“You don’t know that?!”

Castiel shrugged.

“I’m an asshole,” Dean said.

He stared at Castiel.

“I’m an asshole,” he said again.

“Dean, I -”

“I am,” Dean said.

“Well. At least when you’re being an asshole, you’re caring and not telling me. Not the other way around.”

There was that slight dryness, the odd humour, Dean had missed with a pit in his stomach.

“Well, for what it’s worth…” He steeled himself. “Cas, I… you… I mean, you know, uh.”

Castiel didn’t know, though. That was the problem. And the world wasn’t going to push the words out of him, fate wasn’t going to force them any closer than this. Dean had to choose. He had to decide to say it.

He looked down at the floor.

“I want to be with you,” Dean said. “Every day. I want you. And I want to deserve you even though I can’t. But I wouldn’t have ever given up. Trying to, I mean. If it wasn’t already over.”

Castiel’s shoulders untensed. His hand moved to Dean’s cheek, thumb pressed into the stubble there.

Dean looked up, into his eyes.

“Don’t leave me,” Dean said.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Castiel said, and kissed him. The kind of kiss that Dean had missed more than anything, the kind that said everything Dean didn’t know how to use words for. Devastatingly soft - no teeth, no anger, no hardness. Hands holding, bodies pressed, skin alive, heart thudding.

I love you, Dean said with that kiss. I love you I love you I love you I love you.

One day he’d say it. One day.

After some time, they made coffee. And talked a little more.

“I was angry with you,” Dean said.

“Why?” Castiel asked.

Dean gritted his teeth.

“Because,” he said. “It feels like I do a lot of things to show I care. And they don’t seem to mean much to you. So it feels like I care more than you sometimes.”

“But I always tell you that I care,” Castiel said.

“Anyone can say it,” Dean said.

“Oh, really?”

Dean snorted.

“Fine. Point made.”

“I can show you,” Castiel said. “As well as tell you.”

“You can?”

“Mm.” Castiel drew him closer. “I can start now.”

They sat together on the best chair, which was just big enough for two people who wanted to be close. Dean’s phone, lighting up over on the arm of the second-best chair, went ignored. And so it came as something of a shock when there was an almighty crash from the front door, followed by the sound of a distant wail.

“What the -”

Together, Dean and Castiel rushed towards the noise. When they arrived in the hallway, they saw a small gathering: Bobby, Jo, a very surprised-looking Sam, and a distraught Charlie who appeared a few seconds later.

“What did you do?” she said. “How did you get here?”

“I just kicked down a door,” Sam said, sounding proud of it.

“What’s going on here?” Jo asked, looking between Dean and Castiel, a smile growing on her face as she took in the way they were standing, close to each other.

“We were just told there was an emergency,” Bobby said.

“And you couldn’t have tried to knock first to stop it?” Charlie demanded.

“We thought the element of surprise might be important,” Sam said. “Like in a hostage situation.”

“Yeah,” Charlie said sarcastically. “Loudly slamming my door off its hinge is going to make it really surprising when you walk into my apartment.”

“It wasn’t a very good door,” Bobby said.

“It was great! It opened and it closed and it didn’t hang off one hinge at all!”

“I can get a new one. Better.”

“Wait, really?”

“Yep,” Bobby said.

“Huh. Well… okay, then.”

“Yeah, but seriously, what’s going on here?” Jo asked. She was still looking at Dean and Castiel, her eyes flickering between them. “Is there something I don’t know?”

“Don’t look at me,” Dean said. “Charlie’s the one who locked us in here.”

“Wait - what?” Sam demanded.

“You did what?” Jo said, sounding more delighted than Dean would have preferred.

“Well…” Charlie shifted uncomfortably. “You know, they just wouldn’t talk to each other… and they make each other so happy, when they don’t have their heads up their asses… and it was all wrong, so I just thought…”

“You thought you’d lure us to your apartment under false pretences and then lock us in,” Castiel finished for her.

“With the best of intentions?” she said weakly.

“Still kind of an asshole thing to do,” Dean said.

Charlie opened her mouth, and then closed it, seeming to accept this.

“But, uh, hey - Charlie?”

“Yeah?”

Dean looked at Castiel, and grinned, and took his hand.

“Thanks for being an asshole,” he said.

#whelvenwingsfic #thebloggerbloggerfun #angst with a happy ending #hurt/comfort elements #i just had to get those breakup feelings out guys #seen too much of the angst on my dash #also #nano is looking good so far!!!#that's 4.4k today plus the poems i wrote!#feelin good #also thank you so much to the people #who helped me call dibs!#;d

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blackaquokat · 4 years

Text

The Song You Might Have Been (Chapter 4)

Link to Chapter 1 and Chapter 3 here!

A/N: TW for another attempted murder. Plus a fistfight. Because our leading characters are emotionally constipated morons.

---

Funnily enough, the next attempt for your life has nothing to do with your framed case. Which is both a good and bad thing.

Good because a paid assassin is more difficult to sniff out and is financially motivated to really ensure the job is done. Not to mention is more talented at getting away with murder.

Bad because at the moment you’re staring at Newman and three other lackies behind him. They have cornered you in the empty laundry room. Newman is brandishing a shiv sharpened from a toothbrush. You recognize two of his companions as criminals you prosecuted: one for murder and another for drug dealing.

“No one here to protect you now, huh, Eagle?” Newman sneers. “Which means we can cut you up however you want and no one will be any the wiser.”

You swing your arms back and forth casually before putting them behind your back. While you try to slyly get a grip on the large measuring cup of bleach on the table behind you, you speak up. “You’re really tempting fate here, aren’t you? Or are you telling me that Yancy gave you the all-clear to kill me after assigning me a bodyguard rotation?”

The Murderous inmate--Jerry Carson, you remember--pales three shades and turns on Newman. “Wait, hold on, this drip is still under Yancy’s protection? What the hell are you playing at, Newman? I don’t wanna be on Yancy’s shit list!”

Inmate-You-Don’t-Recognize nods frantically in agreement. “I only agreed to this because I was promised more cigarettes, but going against Yancy is suicide!”

(How are these guys so clueless? It’s not like it’s a secret that the gang has been joined to your hip for this long. Or is the rest of the prison under the impression that you’re just an unfortunate tag-along trying to kiss your way up the ladder?)

“Cowards, the lot of you!” Newman snaps. He turns back to you. “Not that I need help killing you. You’re just an attorney. What are you gonna do, throw the book at me?”

You let a sinister smile crawl across your face. “Maybe not the book.”

Newman’s eyes narrow into slits and he lunges for you--only to reel back screaming when you throw the bleach in his eyes.

You drop the cup and charge around him while he flails and furiously wipes at his face. To your surprise, none of the lackeys try to grab you as you escape.

On your way out of the room, you run smack into someone and start flailing when arms hold you in place.

“Whoa, whoa there, Eagle!” Once you hear Jimmy’s voice, you calm down and he releases you. “What’s your hurry?”

“They were about to be a pincushion.”

Jimmy turns to address, much to your surprise, the Drug Dealing inmate who had been suspiciously silent during the whole exchange. Declan Millard, you finally remember.

“You the guy who let Bam-Bam know this was going down?”

Declan nods and winks at you. “Not that I have any fuzzy feelings for you, Eagle, but my lawyer informed me that you were pretty generous about my sentencing.”

“Considering I learned you discouraged dealing to the younger kids in the neighborhood you were in,” you respond automatically, more than a little stunned at this turn of events, “and that you gave up other dealers during the trial, it seemed like the fair thing to do.”

“Not many lawyers are fair, Eagle,” Declan reminds you. “I’d hate to deprive the world of the only one I know.”

“I see I missed the fun.” The three of you turn again and there’s Yancy, once again appearing out of nowhere. His arms are crossed, leaving his forearm tattoo in full view. He looks more lethal than you’ve ever seen him.

“Not quite, boss.” Declan jerks a thumb over his shoulder, pointing to the laundry room where they can all still hear Newman screaming and swearing. “The other two didn’t quite know what they were getting into, but Newman did.”

Yancy nods and cracks his knuckles. He puts a hand on your shoulder. “Why don’t youse go relax in your bunk for a bit? Jimmy and I can take care of this ourselves.”

“Just Newman,” you say, suddenly. “He’s the only one who tried to hurt me.”

“And he was paid for his efforts with a face full of bleach,” Declan reports in a gleeful tone. “It was an impressive sight.” He looks you up and down impressively. “You keep surprising me, Eagle.”

“Yes, yes, they’re very surprising,” Yancy repeats dismissively. “Clear out, Declan. Eagle, back to your cell, that’s an order.”

The look you give him at that statement is enough to have him offer only a somewhat apologetic grimace before entering the laundry room with Jimmy.

You’re halfway down the hall before you hear a loud scream that cuts off into a gurgle only moments later.

---

You go back to your cell, simply because you don’t have anything better to do besides work on another letter to send to the legislature, but when you get there, you almost think you’ve gotten horribly mixed up.

“Um…”

Your cell is completely redecorated. There’s a small white wire tea table with matching chairs and a vase with lovely yellow flowers. Your second set of prison clothes are hanging on various clotheslines. There’s a tiny nightstand with a lamp by your bed, which has new sheets, a comforter, and two more fluffy pillows. Toiletries, of all things, sit in a neat section on the back of and next to the toilet. There’s even an adorable little potted tree with white leaves (that one is probably fake). Someone even put a goddamn fur rug next to the bunk with a pair of slippers. Slippers, for God’s sake.

You’re still gaping at all of this contraband, which makes the cell seem almost decadent in its furnishings, when you hear a low laugh behind you and whirl around to see Heap-Ass deliver you a casual salute before leaving.

“Why the tree?” you blurt out first, because apparently that is the strangest thing in this room and not the goddamn fur rug and furry pillow.

“The boss loves trees,” Heap-Ass yells back.

“Thanks!” you hurry to say before he gets out of earshot. Reverently, you sit at the wire table, where your writing supplies and paper and even a brand new leather bound notebook awaits you, and get started on another letter.

What alternate dimension have I fallen into?

When Yancy returns, his hands suspiciously cleaner than they normally are, you ask him if the refurbishings were his doing. You’ve moved from the table to your bed, curled under the blankets, the lamp switched on, and have now moved onto writing notes in your notebook. It’ll be easier to keep lists of requests in this rather than whatever scraps of paper you can get your hands on.

He shrugs at your questioning look. “Consider it a sign of gratitude for the new books. And the poetry readings youse been doing every night.”

You shut the notebook. “And you go this far for just anyone who does you favors?”

“Only I didn’t ask youse for the books, did I, Eagle?” Yancy challenges. “Did that on your own. Because youse got more fight and more brains than any other goon in this place.”

“Yancy--”

“Listen here, Eagle, I ain’t takin’ any refusal for the gift, alright? Besides, I benefit from these furnishings too.”

“You love trees, yeah, I heard.”

You want to trust that that’s all this is, you really do. You appreciate the little things that have gone a long way to make you more comfortable, but that’s the problem. You don’t want to get comfortable. If you get comfortable, then it will be that much harder to leave.

Something tells you that that might be exactly what Yancy was hoping for. Though God knows why he’s so desperate for you to stick around.

“And this has nothing to do with the fact that my last update with Damien involved breaking down more of Merrill Byron’s operation?”

Yancy flinches and avoids your question by hopping into the top bunk. Moments later, “What makes you think I care what your soon-to-be Mayor friend has to say?”

“Because if they manage to pin any of that operation to Byron, then my name gets cleared and I can leave.”

You can’t see his face, but Yancy’s silences can be just as telling as the nonsense he spouts off.

“Hey, Eagle!” shouts Bam-Bam from down the hall. “You gonna read tonight or what?”

You sigh and reach for the book compilation of Edna St. Vincent Millay poetry you borrowed for the evening. “Alright, keep your shirts on, guys. I’ll only be reading three tonight, don’t get comfortable.”

You’re looking forward to a night of sleep that won’t involve shivering. Turns out the mattress was replaced too, and you are equally looking forward to not feeling springs stab into your back and sides.

---

You never give up, really.

But by the time Week Nine in Happy Trails Penitentiary begins, you start to feel discouraged.

Not that anyone else really gets why. You’ve been perfectly happy organizing the new books and teaching the first few inmate volunteers the Dewey Decimal System so that they can locate and sort the books easier. All those years of trying to pay your way through University as the local librarian are really paying off now. Not that it didn’t pay off before.

“Is it really so bad here?” Jimmy asks you in the yard one day. He’s smuggled bread rolls for the entire gang (which does include you now, you guess). “I mean, I know the hooch wine doesn’t do much for you, but we can always sneak the whiskey out of the warden’s office! Or Heap-Ass can get you some bourbon from the outside.”

“I appreciate the offer, Jimmy.” You swallow a bite of your roll before continuing. “But honestly, I...I can’t stay.”

“Why not?” Tiny insists. She’s clutching the copy of the Velveteen Rabbit to her chest. “Who’s going to run the library if you leave?”

“I can train you guys before I leave, or I can come back after I get out and help you set the rest up.” You scootch closer to Tiny. You would like to put your arm around her, but the last time you attempted physical comfort with her, she held a fork-shiv to your throat. “Look, I’m not going to just forget about you guys, okay? I’ve never had this many friends in my life. I plan on setting up a volunteer system here so I can come by whenever the hell I want.”

Tiny’s tentative smile fades into wide-eyed concern, suddenly, when she looks over your shoulder.

“Oh, sure youse will.”

You spin around in surprise and, sure enough, there’s Yancy. Seriously, you might need to put a bell around his neck.

“You think youse the first person to come in, get released, and never come back?” Yancy challenges. He saunters up to you not unlike a predatory cat. “Why don’t youse just admit that we’re not good enough for you?”

“What, just because I don’t want to sit in here while what little reputation I have with the public gets dragged through the mud?!” You toss your roll behind you as you approach Yancy and listen to some of the gang hurry to catch and call dibs on it. “While a killer goes free and strikes again to clean up loose ends? While my mom sits home alone, worried about me? She already went through losing my dad and my brother, do you think--”

“I told youse on Day One, Eagle,” Yancy snaps, “the past ain’t to be trifled with. If youse’s mum supposedly ‘cares’ about you so much, why’s she not visited? Some loving ma you’ve got there--”

“Because I told her not to, you idiot!”

Yancy freezes mid-accusatory finger point. “Youse--what?”

You look around and get close enough for no one else but Yancy to hear you. The two of you are already drawing eyes to your positions. “Do you think I want my mom to see me like this? She knows I could die in here, I know I could still die in here, and I don’t want her last memory of me to be one where I’m covered in blood and bruises and cuts, she already had to see me like that when I was in high school.”

“Every story I hear about youse’s life on the outside depresses the hell out of me, but that’s besides the point.” The anger in his voice is barely contained. “How about we talk about the fact that youse plan to leave the family here behind? What, youse didn’t like the cell renovations we made after your Nightly Poetry Reading?”

“Yes, I love the comfortable mattress and fur rug and the lamp and the non-itchy, non-bloodstained blankets that keep me warm at night, but Yancy, I can’t stay. Even if we catch the guy who put a hit out on me, who’s to say I won’t get a shiv in the back by someone who doesn’t want their parole? You think I don’t hear you telling other inmates about that little tactic? You’re not quiet at all about it!”

“I was hoping you’d get the hint, Eagle! We don’t want you to go! Do youse really think I’d let anyone kill you?”

“I don’t know what to think of you, Yancy!” you finally shout back.

As soon as the words leave your lips you realize just how true they are. This man has both rescued you and killed for you and called you ridiculous names and comforted you and plotted the deaths of inmates and guards in front of you and it honestly has turned you in circles because despite all of that, despite your moral compass, you really like this complicated mess of a man.

But this is not the time to unpack this increasingly weird relationship you have with him. “Yancy, can you really look me in the eye and promise that I won’t get killed in here?”

Yancy’s mouth opens and closes several times before eventually he shoves you away from him, as if that’ll distract you from the hurt in his eyes. “I shoulda guessed that the Legal Eagle would get too high and mighty for us jailbirds!”

“Yancy--”

“Youse just like my dad! Standing there and judging me like youse think you know better, like youse so much better than me just because youse’s hands are clean?!” He puts his fists up. “Why don’t you get them dirty for once?”

Oh, this bastard. He’s going to make you do it, isn’t he? He’s really going to make you fight him. You put your arms on your hips. “Yancy, stop, you’re being ridiculous--”

He aims a punch at your face and you block it on instinct. You repeat his name but he just tries to hit you again, so that time you block his fist and manage to land a blow to his abdomen.

Fine. Let’s do this.

Yancy may be a rather talented inmate scrapper with a great right hook (you learn a moment later as your eye pulses in pain) but you’ve also boxed three times a week for half your life (because you needed some kind of extracurricular outlet to deal with the frustration of being a non-white academic overachiever) and have learned how to defend yourself pretty damn well.

By the time the fight gets anywhere, your eye is blackening and blood is running from your nose, while Yancy’s sporting several cuts on his face and a split lip. You manage to land several hits in a row before knocking Yancy back in a daze.

“Stand. Down,” you order in a growling tone.

It’s the first and only time you have given anyone here a real command, and you are certainly in no mood for anyone to test the raging anger and frustration lashing underneath your skin just because this idiot that you can’t get out of your head doesn’t know how to talk about his issues like a healthy human being.

(The more rational part of your mind is willing to acknowledge that judging by the rumors about his childhood, there are reasons behind his inability to deal with people in a different capacity, but the rational part of your mind is currently tied up and locked in a trunk until further notice.)

Yancy stares back at you, blood dripping from his lip and staining his shirt. The fury is still brimming in his eyes, but you think you can catch a glimmer of reluctant respect and something else. Something...sad.

But you’re no longer in any mood to read into Yancy’s odd, conflicting behavior. It’s a miracle that none of the guards came to break the two of you apart. You have no intention of pushing your luck.

You push through the crowd that had gathered to watch this unprecedented event and leave the yard, praying that people think the tears running down your face are from your injuries.

---

Link to Chapter 5 here!

Thank you for reading! Please relbog/comment! If you want to be tagged/untagged for the rest of this series or this pairing, please leave a message in my inbox!

@starcrossedforever87 , @dontworryaboutanything , @beereblogsstuff , @falseroar , @intemperantiae , @memetoyoko , @soul-wolf , @marki-dumb , @withjust-a-bite , @raimeyl , @scribbeetle , @its-dari , @neverisadork , @silver-owl413 , @sassy-in-glasses , @chelseareferenced , @sketchy-scribs-n-doods , @axolittle-boi , @wildfandom , @shrinkthisviolet , @purple-anxiety-blog , @conceitedink , @skidspace

#kat writes #ahwm yancy #ahwm #y/n district attorney #wkm #a heist with markiplier #who killed markiplier #emotionally charged fistfights are a weakness of mine #also because it's me #next chapter makes everything fifty times worse

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nosferatyou · 4 years

Text

Double Indemnity: Ch.1 (Josh Kiszka x Reader)

Summary: After an incident their freshman year they could barely stand to look at each other. Now it’s their senior year and are grouped together for their final project. What could go wrong?

Warnings: Cursing

WC: 2.3k

Authors note: Well. I flipped into Josh’s lane and thought of this sucker and couldn’t get it out of my head. After I heard the story behind the writers of “Double Indemnity” I just had to make this. Heres to me hopefully finishing a series! Enjoy!

Let’s go back to the day when I “met” Josh Kiszka and when I actually met Josh.

It was the summer before my freshman year of college, and at that point, film sets weren’t a stranger to me. But I sure didn’t have the experience that most of the already film majors around me had. I was roped in by my long time friend Jack who I hadn’t spoken to since graduation, but due to the circumstances, he needed as many crew members as possible. He had 2 days to write, shoot, and cut together a short film. I was a PA (production assistant) and was frantically running around helping in any way I could. I was smart enough to stay out of the way and speak up when needed.

I met most of the crew except one, the cinematographer/camera op, who was the busiest on set. The exception being Jack, who was the director. I heard the camera OP was only there because he had the nicest camera, but my mind may have tainted what I heard about him that day.

With only an hour to spare we had finished the film. All of us dehydrated and starving, sleep-deprived too. I was cradling a horrendous migraine from the lack of water and was ready to leave before someone suggested we go to Cookout. Which is arguably the best food at 3 am.

Against my will, I was dragged to the fast-food restaurant with the rest of the crew. At that point, I was barely conscious and sat in the back seat of Jack’s car. The stranger cinematographer who I hadn’t noticed was next to me until he tapped my shoulder. With a concerned look, asked me if I was okay and needed anything. Which was nice of him considering we’d never spoken.

After the short exchange of words, he never seemed to fully leave my side. May it be his glances from across the table with the same concerned look, or him bring me cups of water, which I still don’t remember him getting up for.

After that night it would be months until I see him again.

I didn’t expect him to be in my Post Production class, but I was definitely happy to see him. It was my first day of classes and to see a familiar face was a nice change of pace compared to whirlwind of a day. Though it wasn’t too long after that that my feelings for him changed.

If you’re a film student you’re going to edit a Gunsmoke fight scene, it is basically a right of passage. Anyways I was an experienced editor and of course, was going to cut the fight scene to the beat of an Ennio Morricone song. If we were going to work on a western scene then Ennio was a must.

I was damn proud of my work, I seemed to be one of the best editors in the class, josh being right there with me. We didn’t exchange many words, but we kept each other company by simply sitting next to each other.

Then came the critique day, when everyone watches your video and gives you notes. Usually its never good notes.

After our class watched it everyone had a lot to say, mostly over small slip-ups I didn’t notice, that’s normal. Josh’s video was next and the moment the music played I was livid, he had used the same exact song, even cut it the same way I did. The worst part was that no one had anything bad to say about it, all good comments. I kept it contained, for the most part. I didn’t verbally say anything, but my constant tapping and dirty looks in his direction said otherwise. I don’t think he’d noticed.

I waited until everyone left and simply gave him a piece of my mind. Maybe I snapped at him… either way, it led to us getting into our first screaming match. Josh saying he “didn’t” copy my video and me disagreeing. I honestly don’t remember how it ended, but I do remember us getting kicked out of the building for it.

Anyways that was three years ago, and we still hate each other. Yet here we are still in all the same classes, but the difference is we have silent warfares. Constantly competing with each other, showing each other our higher grades, and besting each other’s videos. I can barely stand to hear him talk anymore, but I do have to say. He knows how to make a good line.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Even with the cold chill of the November air prickling my skin and the wind whipping my hair, my mood couldn’t be damped. Maybe “chill” is an understatement. Living in “The City by the Lake” aka Chicago brings on the harshest of winters, and as crazy as it seems, I always weirdly miss it when I go back to Michigan. Sure it has it’s many feet of snow, but Chicago makes the wind weirdly dazzling.

This is my last coffee, I’ll switch to tea. Is something I say every morning when I get up before classes, but here I am again, with an out of place cold brew in hand and a raging caffeine addiction. In hindsight, it is better than my previous vice, cigarettes, but the headaches it brings on is just as bad as missing a cig. My one hand shoved in my pocket and the other is clutching the same cold brew as before. I may have said that I couldn’t be bothered by the weather, but I’m not immune.

As soon as I enter Columbia’s Media Production building everything becomes flush with warmth. Its a bit uncomfortable really. I remove my gloves and quickly checked my phone, affirming that I’m right on time as always. As I stroll through the halls I tune more into the music, enjoying my free time. There is just something about Chet Baker and Chicago that just mixes so well.

Todays a good day though, it marks my one year of quitting cigs. Did I mention that I quit? Because I quit. Anyways my roommate made a big deal out of it, I also figured out the coolest riff, I’m kind of shit at making music out of thin air so it’s a big day.

After taking the long way to my Directing class (Cinema Directing III if you want to get technical) I finally made it to the small class. Most of the class was there, luckily for me my two-year seat partner, Gwen, was already there, waiting where she always does. We met in our Single Cam 1 class and have been inseparable since, well actually Gwen, Cora (the previously mentioned roommate), and I have been inseparable ever since.

I made my way to my usual seat and peeled my overworn leather bomber jacket off, already feeling more comfortable. Slumping back in my chair I lazily grabbed my sketchbook and pencil out of my bag. Its become a kind of habit to draw my professors and classmates every day, something is just so fascinating about their compositions. I got to work on Gwen who was hunched over, focusing on her book in front of her. I got to work and as soon as I finished up on the basic shapes she quickly sat up, focusing on me.

“You ready for the final project?” She questioned, stealing my coffee in the process.

“I’ve been working on a few ideas already, but then again I don’t know the assignment yet. I do know I will be grabbing the usual 4 of you the moment he says “groups.”

“Heres to hoping we can pick- Oh!” She almost spilled my coffee when she interrupted herself.

“I forgot to text you! Happy one year of being ciggy free!” She exclaimed, handing me back the bottle.

I took a swig from the bottle when she gave it back. “Well thank you, darling. I feel like having clean lungs shouldn’t be such an achievement, but I guess here we are.”

“Be proud! Besides gives us a reason to head to Jerry’s.”

“We’d celebrate over anything if it meant going to Jerry’s and getting pissed.” I smirked at her.

“Well. You got me there. Anyways you are right, we will be getting drunk out of our minds tonight. Bless the man who decided to open a bar directly next to your apartment building.” She said, with a playful smile on her lips.

“Bless him indeed.” I laughed.

At that moment I locked eyes with none other than the aforementioned, Josh Kiszka. It’s oddly enough what we do every time we see each other. Which is more often than I think both of us care for. But seeing him roll his eyes every time I glare at him is kind of fun.

I followed him with my eyes as he sat down in his seat, instantly sticking his nose in- wait what is he reading? I focused and realized he was reading the screenplay for Tarantino’s “Reservoir Dogs.” Where the hell did he even get that?

My eyes snapped up to the professor when I realized he started class.

“Alright, I’m just going to jump into this. Today we start on your final projects, and I think it’ll be very fun. A challenge for sure, but fun nonetheless.”

I slipped a sly smile to Gwen, already thinking of the best ideas in my arsenal to use.

“In groups, you all will be recreating a favorite film, but it should max be 20 minutes long. Now that’ll be your job to rewrite and format it so you can fit in the timeframe. Oh, and I swear to god if another person does Pulp Fiction I will actually scream. You can hold me to that.”

Oh Jesus okay this will be hard as hell, I guess something with a simpler plot will be easy. Ooh, or something that’s so overcomplicated I can rewrite it so it’s simpler. What’s something that’d be good for Gwen, she’s a good actress, but she can only play so much-

“I already have your groups picked out let me just put them up on the board.” My professor said, searching for the list on his computer.

Oh god. He’s never done this. We always pick groups. If Gwen and I aren’t grouped together I may just riot. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him drag the document over to the screen, so I quickly directed my attention to it.

I searched all of the lists, finally finding my name at the top of group four. Rob, Eric, and- Oh shit Gwen! Wait. There’s one more. The moment I saw the J I knew exactly who it was. My eyes darted over to Josh’s seat and had the same look I could only guess that was on my face. We both glared at each other, if we stared any harder we’d burn holes in each other.

“Motherfucker!” I whispered to Gwen, trying not to raise my voice.

“What? We are in the same group.” she looked back over to me with confusion on her face. She followed my eyes to the equally angry man across the room from me.

“Oh, shit..”

“Oh shit is right! I can’t work with that guy, I swear to god… Damn it, I can’t think of an insult! Quick help me!” I stammered out, you could practically see the steam coming out of my ears.

“Um... You can’t work with that Frodo look alike?” She suggested, both of us whispering to each other now,

“I’ll take it. I can’t work with that Frodo look alike! He’s just gonna take all of my good ideas and throw them into the lava like that fucking ring. Wait is it Frodo or sam who throws it? Know what, I don’t care. Look at what he’s making me forget important plot points in movies. I can’t work with someone who hinders my thinking process.”

“First off, Gollum falls in with the ring in hand. Secondly, drink your coffee and focus on what movie we should do. Suggest something so good so fast that it’ll make his head spin.”

She put the almost empty coffee in my hands and I took a swig, still glancing back at josh, making the same face.

Gwen started to ramble on, her words in the back of my mind. All I could focus on was wanting to be in any other group than his, even Leonard. He refuses to watch a Tarantino film, and simply because he thinks he’s beyond that. Leonard is someone I talk to if only necessary.

I tuned back in to hear. “I mean if you think about it, as much as you and Josh are to Frodo and the Ring. You’re more like Billy Wilder and Ray Chandler. I mean they hated each other, but damn if they weren’t good writers. Plus, they respect a good line-”

Inspiration was swept over me. I knew exactly what we had to do. Before I knew what was happening my feet carried themself over to Josh’s seat. Same as before, we both had the same expression, except this time it was one of surprise.

“Double Indemnity!” I blurted out a bit too loudly.

He seemed even more confused. “Double insurance money?” He questioned.

“Fuck. No. It’s the film we are going to make. It’s a fantastic idea, and it’s happening. Not even you can argue with me!” I sped out.

He sat for a moment in thought, his brows furrowed together and a cliche hand positioned on his chin.

“Fine.” Is all he said, his arms were crossed. He seemed defeated.

I simply turned on my heel and headed back to my seat. An overexcited grin plastered to my face.

#greta van fleet #josh kiszka fic #jake kiszka #sam kiszka #danny wagner #josh kiszka x reader #double indemnity #my fic #double indemnity series

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infinitestarsintheskye · 3 years

Text

I was tagged by the ever lovely @besidemethewholedamntime, thanks lovely! 😘

1. What is the color of your hairbrush?

Just plain black. Nothing exciting unfortunately!

2. Name a food you never eat

Mushrooms, and at the moment, cheese. Damned dairy intolerance.

3. Are you typically too warm or too cold?

Both, but usually cold. My internal heating and cooling system is truly buggered, thanks to the fact that I was a premmie baby. Just one of the many fun side effects.

4. What were you doing 45 minutes ago?

Fannying about after having a shower. Every single day I do this and I don’t know why.

5. What’s your favorite candy bar?

CURRENTLY, it is the Galaxy Vegan caramelised hazelnut chocolate and oh my god it’s so good. A lot of vegan chocolate is really crumbly and whilst it tastes good, the texture is just off and that kind of ruins it for me. But Galaxy have really nailed the texture, it’s just creamy and good and just tastes and feels like real chocolate and I was honestly so happy the first time I tried it.

6. Have you ever been to professional sports event?

I have! I went to a few Scottish Premier League (football) games when I was younger, with my dad, before realising that I didn’t enjoy it much. I have also been to one singular hockey match, which really tells you everything you need to know about how I found that. Honestly I don’t really go in much for sports. I enjoy watching horse riding, show jumping and the like, and figure skating, and that’s about it.

7. What is the last thing you said out loud?

“WHAT ARE YOU EATING?!” To the doggo, who had just got a hold of the leftovers of my dad’s lunch.

8. What is your favorite ice cream?

Ben and Jerry’s do an ice cream that has vanilla on one side, and chocolate on the other, with a full ass BLOCK of caramel in the middle, and it is probably the unhealthiest thing I have ever consumed, but oh my god it’s so good.

9. What was the last thing you had to drink?

Tea! Please assume that I am always drinking tea, it is a fairly accurate assumption.

10. Do you like your wallet?

Eh. It’s okay. It’s getting a bit old but I’ve been putting off getting a new one.

11. What is the last thing you ate?

One of those tiny little packets of haribo that are STILL somehow leftover from Halloween

12. Did you buy any new clothes last weekend?

I did! I bought a new top for work, a white jumper bc white goes with everything and I’m a bit lazy.

13. What’s the last sporting event you watched?

On purpose? The 2018 Winter Olympic Ice Dance final when Virtue/Moir FINALLY WON THE GOLD!!! It was on until like 3/4am, and I had 3 back to back lectures the next day, and I was SO TIRED, but oh it was worth it!! I think the mens individual final was on the next night but I FULLY fell asleep halfway through 😬

14. What is your favorite flavor of popcorn?

Sweet and salty!

15. Who is the last person you send text message to?

My sister! I was ranting about The Crown and she was just kind of listening haha

16. Ever been camping?

Twice! Both my guide troop. Once just cause, and once bc it was the Centenary of Girl Guiding in the UK and all of the troops in our county pitched up in a giant field for the weekend, which was good fun! Would I do it again? Maybe not. I’m not really that outdoorsy, but I will give anything a go once.

17. Do you take vitamins?

Nope! I probably should, but I swear every time I start taking vitamin C I get a cold. Not sure if this is just my immune system being weird or if I am actually cursed.

18. Do you regularly attend a place of workship?

Nope! I am very much agnostic. I used to live almost right across the road from a church, that was fun on a Sunday morning no need to set an alarm, and I used to walk past, I kid you not four or five on my way to work, which is a lot considering it was ALL ONE ROAD and a fairly short walk.

19. Do you have a tan?

Nope! I’m so pale I reflect the sun back.

20. Do you prefer chinese or pizza?

Pizza!!! I miss it!!! Dairy free cheese suuuuuccckkksssss

21 . Do you drink your soda through a straw?

Not really. I didn’t really before but I’m really not a fan of paper straws and them getting all soggy.

22. What color socks you usually wear?

Literally every single colour. A lot of blue and navy but I’m not kidding, it is every colour.

23. Do you ever drive above the speed limit?

I can’t drive so I can’t go over the speed limit haha

24. What terrifies you?

Oh well, what a fun question. So much. Ultimately failure. Failure to do anything worthwhile in my life, failure to help people, failure in my personal life. The list goes on. And heights. I am truly truly terrified of heights.

25. Look to your left, what do you see?

The doggo!! 🐶

26. What chore do you hate the most?

Sorting through odd socks. All black socks should be burned imo.

27. What do you think when you hear Australian accent?

Neighbors. My mum loved Neighbors in its hayday, and it is always discussed when Kylie or Jason Donovan is on the telly haha.

28. Whats your favorite soda?

Good old lemonade.

29. Do you go in a fast food place or just hit drive through?

Can’t drive so go in. My flatmate and I got really bad for ordering in McDonalds last year after it got put on Uber eats. She was a terrible influence on me I swear.

30. What’s your favorite number?

31. Who’s the last person you talked to?

My granny!

32. Favorite meal?

My mum’s leftover chicken risotto with bacony bits

33. Last song you listened to?

According to Spotify, Smoke by Gia Margaret (suprise surprise, its from the Normal People soundtrack)

34. Last book you read?

Hamnet by Maggie O’Farrell. Such a beautifully written book. Very casually magical and oh so very sad.

35. Favorite day of the week?

Tuesday, but I couldn’t tell you why.

36. Can you say alphabet backwards?

Absolutely not.

37. How do you like your coffee?

I don’t like coffee. I like the smell but it is far too bitter for me and the caffeine makes me feel truly awful.

38. Favorite pair of shoes?

I have a pair of brown boots that are almost victorian in style, they lace up, and made of the softest leather and I love them to utter pieces.

39. Time you normally get up?

On a normal day, usually any time after 10am. I like my bed and I don’t go to sleep until quite late. When I’m working, it’s usually between half past 6 and 9am.

40. What do you prefer, sunrise or sunset?

Sunset. I am very much a night owl.

41. How many blankets on your bed?

At the moment I just have my big thick duvet which keeps me very cosy and I never want to get out of my cosy bed, but I FULLY expect that to increase as it gets colder bc I am a cold creature.

42. Describe your kitchen plates

Just plain white, fairly standard.

43. Describe your kitchen at the moment.

Clean???

44. Do you have a favorite alcoholic drink?

Oooh, I like a Bacardi and coke or a gin and lemonade (which according to my gin and tonic loving mother is a sacreligous thing to do to gin). I don’t drink a whole lot, but those are my two go tos.

45. Do you play cards?

I can play cards, but I don’t do it on the regular.

46. What color is your car?

Don’t have a car!

47. Can you change a tire?

Nope!

48. Your favorite state or province?

Don’t really have that here, so I’m gonna be a bit cheeky and say Perthshire 😉. It really is beautiful though!!

49. Favorite job you’ve had?

My current job! It’s just a clothes shop retail job, but the company is so good (which is rare for a big company), the people are so lovely, the hours can suck sometimes, but I enjoy it so much more than waitressing and bar work!

Thanks again so much for the tag! I think just about everyone has been tagged in this, so if you haven’t done this yet, consider yourself tagged now!!

#skye rambles

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the-everlasting-dream · 4 years

Text

Interrogation

Summary: Behati decides to get to know her mother’s neighbour better.

A/N: This has been in my head for the longest time and its finally coming to life. I would really appreciate if you left me a little comment of what you thought coz I’ve never written for MOTY before..

MC Faceclaim: Zoe Saldana

Kiddo FC: Yara Shahidi

Levi FC: Enrico Ravenna

Word Count: 1777

Warnings: None

‘Hey Rocket,’ Levi Schuler called out to his neighbour's daughter as he turned over two different bracelets in his hand. ‘Which do you think makes me look cooler?’

Ashanti was working late that night at the dress shop and she’d asked him to watch over her adorable daughter Behati and he was happy to oblige. Levi had always considered himself a big kid anyway so getting along with the nine year old was a breeze. She was so smart and witty, it caught him off guard sometimes. She was just like her mum. The thought of Ashanti momentarily brought a smile to his face before it morphed into a frown. Something wasn’t right.

‘Rocket?’ He called out, suspicious of the silence enveloping the apartment. A worm of worry grew in his chest and he pocketed the bracelets before heading to the little girl's room. He knocked on the door but there was no answer.

‘Behati?’

Levi tried to keep his voice even, as his mind ran through a list of the worst possibilities. If anything happened to the kiddo, he would never forgive himself. After a long terrifying moment, he heard her sweet clear voice call out.

‘Come in.’

‘Oh Rocket you almost gave me a heart attack! If anything happened to you- Wait why are you dressed like that?’ Levi cut his relieved rambling short, confused. He took in the sight of the nine year old, perched on her bed, wearing her school lab coat and massive costume glasses with a clipboard and pen in her hands.

‘Have a seat Mr Schuler,’ she instructed, nodding to a chair she’d strategically placed before her.

Levi obeyed, barely able to suppress a grin at how adorable Behati looked but sensing that she wanted this to be a serious affair, he decide to play along. ‘Am I in trouble ma’am?’

The girl shook her head solemnly. ‘I’m going to ask you some questions and get to know you better. We’ll start off easy. What's your favourite colour?’

He chuckled, graciously going along with her game. ‘Blue. What’s yours? Lemme guess..’ He gave a quick glance around the room then at her colourful t-shirt. ‘Purple..?’

‘Yes!’ Behati smiled widely before turning back to her clipboard. 'If you could be any animal the world what would you be?’

Levi puffed out his chest proudly. ‘Probably something cool. Like a falcon or a jaguar. Something thats awesome and badass like me.’ HIs eyes widened in shock, not sure what Ashanti’s policy on swearing was but not wanting to risk it either.

Behati patted his knee sympathetically. ‘It will be our little secret.’ She even had the gall to wink at him.

'What’s your third favourite ice cream flavour?' ‘I- Oh wow I don’t think I’ve thought about it before,’ he rubbed the back of his neck as he thought. ‘First would be chocolate for sure, then caramel…. then maybe…hmm. Gotta go with Ben & Jerry’s cookie dough. Love that stuff.’

'Speaking of food, do you like pineapple on pizza or not?’

‘Hell no!’ He exclaimed. ‘Why would you interrupt the rich awesome flavours of meat and cheese with something sickeningly sweet. Pineapple is the worst fruit. And fruit does not belong on pizza.’ He crossed his arms to make a point.

‘Are you sure?’ ‘One hundred percent positive.’ Behati’s eyes sparkled. ‘What about tomato? Thats a fruit and that definitely goes on pizza.’

After a beat, Levi shook his head. ‘Huh… guess ya got me there. You’re one smart cookie Rocket.'

She returned his fist bump before going back to her list. 'Which is your favourite Barbie movie?’

‘Uhh I… I haven’t seen any of the Barbie movies actually.’

The nine year old gasped as if he’d said he’d never heard of Beyonce or something. ‘Oh my gosh you have to watch them. My favourite is Barbie the Princess and the Pauper. It was one of the first ones and its got all mu favourite songs I also like the one where…'

Levi let her ramble on for a few minutes, taking in how adorable she looked when she got excited talked about her favourite things. She literally lit up like the sun itself. God she’s going to go far. And I hope I’m there to see it.

‘…but that one really sucks. Thats what Mum thinks.’ Behati gasped as if she’d gotten an idea. 'We should do a Barbie movie marathon! we’ll have snacks and drinks and treats. Maybe next time you babysit me we can ask Mum if we can do that.'

Levi ruffled her hair affectionately, grinning. ‘Sure thing Rocket. You tell me when and where and I’ll be there.’

They chatted on for a little bit, making their grand plans to talk Ashanti into letting them watch over 10 movies back to back before Behati went back to her list.

'If you had to be in a band would you chose One Direction or BTS?

‘Eww...Are those the only choices?’ he protested, rubbing the back of his neck. ‘I was thinking more along the lines of Bon Jovi or Led Zeppelin.’

Behati’s nose scrunched up. ‘Led what?’

Levi raised his eyes to heaven. ‘Hasn’t your mother taught you anything? They’re only the greatest bands of all time! Woooaaah livin on a prayer!’ Singing a few bars, he mimed a guitar solo and head banging for a few seconds only to see Behati covering her mouth to conceal her laughter.

‘Whatever,’ he mumbled, in mock annoyance. ‘You kids these days have no taste.’

Behati tapped her pen against her clipboard before continuing on. 'Are there more leaves in the world or blades of grass?'

'Er, blades of grass… I think..?''What about trees? Are there more trees than buildings?'

‘Um trees.’The nine year old cocked her head to the side.. ‘Are you sure?’

‘Uh pretty sure.’She was fixing him with an analytical gaze that made Levi suddenly second guess himself. Where there more trees than buildings…

‘Hmm.’ Behati took a moment to think. ‘I need to look into it.’

‘You do that. Any more questions?'

‘Did you make those yourself?’

Surprised, Levi glanced down at the two homemade bracelets he’d been clutching the whole time, sheepishly hiding them behind his back. ‘If you ever tell your mum, I’ll deny everything.’

Behati let out a giggle, breaking her act and Levi joined in, glad to see her so happy amidst the tough custody case her parents were in. If only that sonofabitch Guy would let go of his goddamn ego… This lil girl deserves the whole damn world. The whole damn universe while we’re at it.

‘Sorry to break up the party kiddo but if I don’t get you into bed soon, our chances of having that Barbie marathon are Poof!’ He mimed an explosion with his hands.

‘Last one,’ Behati pleaded, her mood growing much more sober as she fixed him with her big brown eyes. ‘Are you in love with my mum?’

What? That caught Levi off guard. How was he gonna answer that?

‘What makes you say that?’ He asked, nervously rubbing the bag of his neck, hoping for some stalling time.

Behati shrugged. 'Its obvious. You’re always hanging out here and you and Mum get really smiley around each other. I even heard Mum talk to Alma about it one night when I was supposed to be sleeping.’

‘Oh yeah? What did she say?’ Levi queried, filled with curiosity. Ashanti was talking about him..?

‘Nothing much,’ Behati replied between yawns. ‘She just think you’re cute and really really nice. So are you gonna marry her? Are you gonna be my new dad?’

He held his arms out in a defensive gesture. 'Woah woah, slow down Rocket, come back to earth for a bit huh? I don’t think we’re at that stage yet. Particularly with stuff with your actual dad.’

Levi looked at her open, innocent face, hanging on to his every word. He couldn’t get her hopes up but he couldn’t lie to her either. He debated internally with himself for a long moment before answering.

‘Look Rocket, you and your mum are amazing people and I’m so lucky to have you in my life. I’m not saying anything too crazy with this but… I’d really like to be apart of your lives for as long as you’ll have me. Whether that will be just as your neighbour… or something… else. I don’t know yet. I don’t know what the future holds but anything is possible. You and I will just have to wait and see.’

He watched Behati nod, taking it all in sagely.

He gave her a couple more seconds before clapping his hands twice. ‘Alright bedtime. Even rockets need their rest!'

Soon after, Levi was tucking Behati under her space themed quilt before she piped up again.

'One more question.'

'All theses questions and questions but alright, I’ll take one more.’ he replied, crouching down next to her bed, tucking her under the covers. ‘Whatcha got for me?’

‘Can you play for me? Mum usually sings me a song to go to sleep.’

Levi felt his heart soften a little. ‘Of course Rocket.'

And that was how Ashanti found them when she came back that night; Behati fast asleep and Levi steaming idly on the strings as his face formed a gentle smile.

'Hey maestro. How’d it go?'

'It was great.’

She raised her eyebrows, watching him rise from the chair and make his way over to her. ‘What? No snappy response.’

Levi smiled softly at her. ’Nah not tonight.' She returned the smile albeit a bit confused at his sudden affection. ‘Everything okay there Guitar boy?' T

hat was what he loved about Ashanti. No matter how tired and run down she was, she always made time for others, to ask them how they were, if they needed anything or simply just to give them a little pep talk. Her pep talks were sometimes the highlight of his day, he’d miss having people hat would be in his corner to talk him up and hold him accountable. He loved how she… He loved..

He was falling in love with her.

He glanced at the sleeping child in bed and again at her mother in the door way, feeling strangely at home right here. I could get used to this. Ashanti stared up at him, puzzled and Levi could have kissed her in that moment right there but taking in her tired eyes and probably aching feet after a long shift, he decided against it. There would be other times. He opted for a kiss on the head.

‘Everything is perfect.’

Permatags: @chantelle-x0x , @choicessa , @drakewalkerwhipped , @mfackenthal , @srawesleyghuewrites , @topsyturvy-dream , @enmchoices , @gardeningourmet @debramcg1106 , @alesana45 , @meladoridarcy, @blackcatkita , @tmarie82 , @annekebbphotography , @lizk77 , @jayjay879 , @tornbetween2loves , @akrenich , @theroyalweisme , @likethetailofacomet , @sleepwalkingelite , @xxrainbow-princessxx , @ooo-barff-ooo , @drakewalker04 , @mkatschoicesblog , @burnsoslow @saivilo @waytooattuned

#mother of the year #moty #choices moty #playchoices #levi schuler #moty levi #pixelberry #choices fandom #choices fanfiction

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o-daintyduck · 4 years

Text

AWAE 3.08 Reaction feat. MY FREAKOUT

The synopsis is giving me hope kinda.. We’ll see Ka'kwet but she’ll still be at the school so more weeping, Aunt Jo visits and brings a devious scheme,.. is it about Diana?? Will she or won’t she have to go to Paris? But why is it devious? And what about shirbert?????

Here we go.

Bruh Anne looks gorgeous in this still photo. All that fire just accentuates her looks!!!

Like an animal??? I’m angry already.

Mr. Avery is back!!! They’ve certainly hatched a plan of some sorts… But I guess it won’t be successful *sighs*

I knew she was in the barrel… Lol everyone knew that.. prolly.

How long will she hold her breath.. and will that poor boy hold the nun without giving anything away.. she’s going to hit him, isn’t she? WTF

Omg Mr. Avery is a beacon of light in this scene… he’s so pure.

Oh my Gods!! Did the plan actually work? She’s holding on it…

Anne is so happy!! Is she lying to Marilla tho? Lol

Wait did they make up??? Moira won’t let me de clown in the Dianne fight too!! Insufferable… But I’m so happy at the same time.. Wait is Anne imagining this?

Well I figured it out before “Diana” ran away, cut me some slack guys… Normally I’m not this stupid..

Fuuuckkkkkk the SCHOOLHOUSE BURNT TO A CRISP…. I DON’T KNOW WHAT TO SAY…

Gilbert sure loves to think out loud,“ the printing press can’t just up and walk away by itself!!”

Yep the fault of small minds…

Man I really miss the schoolhouse… I’m weeping already..5 minutes in..

Miss Stacy is so hurt… the memories i can’t...

Rachel’s gonna throw a fit too!!! Rachel had memories in the school too.. I can’t -

Yass things will not be the same… I said it once and say it again.. Rachel will go rogue by the serie ends… And I’m living for it!!!

I still can’t believe Ka'kwet actually fled that place… So proud of her!!! And anxious too rn.

Ahhhh Bash’s mom is here!!!!!!!!!!!! I already love her… Finally some of that mother’s love for Bash that he missed and Gilbert too!!!!

It’s a diff actress maybe but don’t care … It’s Bash’s mom y'all!!!!!

Yass someone to keep Bash in check too.. love it!! *chef’s kiss*

Lol Anne and Gilbert talking sooo loud!!! And nobody seems to care… Lol

Okay petition for a new gc name– “Can I borrow your pen?”

Okay so the shirbert scene just ended like for the 5th time… And I was gaping all along… Wtf

I really need to meet that kid of Rachel’s… Such chaotic energy to have burned down the shed multiple times.

Was this how Marilla and Rachel behaved when they lived together in the books??? I know the discussion is serious but so precious at the same time.

Lol Bash’s mom definitely is going through a “cultural shock” atm I CAN’T. Two white women cleaning his house while he was away *no offense* but so so hilarious…

Bash’s face says it all..

This first meeting of Grand mamma- Delli is too much for me too handle… Gonna go hug my Nana..

Wait Hazel is fine!! Mom still thinks that she was only summoned for childcare… Welp

Ruby couldn’t speak in front of Gil b4 if her life depended on it.. but oh look now with the crush gone- she’s a new person!!! And the things she saying have me jumping up the roof!!!!

Well ruby I trusted you too much, didn’t I? Aren’t Anne and Gilbert enough on there for bringing up Winnie and now you too!

Gilbert peeked at Anne, I mean how can a boy be so stupid.. no I’m not saying ooc calm your spears,people. my heart is breaking for Anne I can hear it almost.

Diana is going to fight with Jerry too, isn’t she?

LEAVE JERRY ALONE!! he deserves to be happy!!! Not hating on Diana… But he deserves better ..better than this.

My fav gal Aunt Jo!!! Diana wrote to Cole, maybe..and he told her.

Lol its not even been 15 minutes and I’ve written an essay already!!!

I’m confusion.. why does Diana have no choice??

Bash’s Mom lived all her life like this.. it will take her some time to break free from that. But until then, welp

Bash teasing Gilbert is out of this world!!!! And have you heard that Delphine is cho cho cute.. i cringed myself typing this.

I swear Anne is me!!! Had to take a test just today!!! And I was cramming until the last moment.. Matthew and Marilla are so proud.. and jittery too

WHERE IS KA'KWET????

Diana looks like she’s holding back a flood of tears even while eating.. ohhhh she gonna take the test!!!!!!! YAYYY

Aunt Jo’s happiness and pride knows no bound (mine too)

Moody dude, in the words of the ever so great Taylor Swift, you need to calm down.. Diana hasn’t studied nothing think of her..

Where is Gilbert ?? The gc needs to renamed to may I borrow your pen… To commemorate another one of Gilbert’s shenanigans. Ehh called it ! He didn’t take the test..

I’m all for bromance bw Miss Stacy and Bash but nothing more than that please….

This is the 4th (and presumably last) appearance of Winifred… I want her to remain involved, shes too cool, but just can’t figure her out even now…

Here it is!!! An advantageous marriage.. very few people could have called it b4 the season.. but it is canon.. I’m not worried about shirbert.. but just how far Gilbert is willing to go for his ambitions.

Okay the kids are wasted!!

A drunk Anne and somewhat sober Gilbert, the perfect combo!!!!!! I have read atleast 5 fics head canoning this…*another chef’s kiss for the fic writers*

Okay nobody imagined this …I take that back… That look Gilbert is giving her made my stomach to leap a mile…

What’s holding you back? Ahh the question of the ages… I’m gushing at this so much,like this is serious but the first person Gil wanted to ask was Anne about all of this.. and she’s so drunk but at the same time utterly heartbroken, still encourages him to do it…. Slow burn madafuka.

Okay the PROPOSAL just happened !!!

And I’m freaking out just every bit as Anne!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I’m really not okay and they had to show Ka'kwet feeding off of berries… The poor girl *cries yet again*

They are searching the letters, aren’t they???

No, the dictionary and a wedding ring… And here I go weeping again…

I really went outside to scream at the sky a second ago… But need to scream again!!!! I’ll not be okay this week or this year at all.

Anne needs her bosom friend now… She’s just been PROPOSED!!!!!!! I know it’s gonna go haywire any second now but please let me live this for now… I can’t even imagine this is happening..

Aunt Jo with the best advice… Just hope Anne takes it as we want her to..

Bash has his mother with him.. i’m just happy for him.

He’s gonna propose Anne and I too need to get up for this again…. BASH IS THE WHOLE FANDOM RIGHT ABOUT NOW.

And that’s how you shatter a million hearts!!! “Now I can be happy with Winnie”.. I’m still happy that they didn’t stretch this till the finale atleast.. the heartache would have been unbearable.

Marilla is onto something. Now Rachel has full reign over these old hacks.

Go Rachel Go go Go Rachel!!! They just got vetoed!!! And I love it… Other 2 women will have to be Muriel and Marilla..

SHE’S HOME AT LAST!!!!!

And in her mother’s arms!! Is it too late to give those nuns and that whole school HELL

Poor Minnie May and Diana.. atleast she’ll understand now that she always has a choice to be herself no matter what anybody says…

I love that They’ve made up!!! They are made for each other… #DianneForever

“I’m in love with Gilbert Blythe!”

Aren’t we all? Anne.

It took me 3 hours to watch this episode because i was freaking out so much, tell me if this was comprehensible at all if you came this far…

This episode was different for so many reasons but the proposal...oh the proposal... excuse me gotta scream again..

And “Anne rejected” him... i guess Moira couldn’t stray far from og on this one.

#anne with an e #shirbert #anne shirley cuthbert #gilbert blythe

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shes-soparticular · 5 years

Text

Darling, So it Goes

You take Shawn home for an American Thanksgiving. Your childhood bedroom gets more than it bargained for.

Warning(s): Heavy Smut.

A/N: A little fluff, a little smut. SlightlyOlder!Reader.

Words: 4440

It took months of begging, but you finally succumbed to your mother’s plea to make a trip home for Thanksgiving. You hadn’t been back to your hometown since your move to Toronto at the beginning of the year and you had to admit the nostalgia of an old-fashioned American holiday had gotten the best of you. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to see your family, it was your apprehension about bringing your boyfriend home. They’d met Shawn before, sure, but always on your terms and while on their best behavior. You knew the atmosphere wouldn’t be quite the same once everyone was wine drunk around the dinner table, delving into political arguments and dredging up stories of your youthful fuckups. Not to mention, you’d never really brought anyone home before despite being well into your mid-twenties. There was no telling what kind of awkward, prying questions your mom might ask, what offensive jokes your dad would inflict, or the droning on of your older brother and dead stares from your sister-in-law. You chastised yourself internally for thinking of your family so negatively, but you just really, REALLY needed this holiday to go off without a hitch. Mostly for your own sanity. You knew deep down you had nothing to worry about – Shawn’s Canadian manners would dazzle everyone and he’d be a good sport about their neurotic behavior. But you still held your breath all the way through the pumpkin pie, until you could finally sneak off to your childhood bedroom with Shawn in tow.

You’d tried your hardest to book a hotel room for the weekend but after receiving the catholic guilt trip of the century from your mother, you begrudgingly agreed to stay with them. As you flipped on the light, you instantly felt regret churning in your stomach along with the turkey. The bright lavender walls, the stuffed animals arranged meticulously on your canopy bed, the numerous photos of every awkward stage you ever went through tacked to the walls. Jesus, the plastic glow in the dark stars were even still stuck to the ceiling after twenty plus years. Without needing to look at him, you already knew Shawn had the biggest smirk on his face. He was going to eat this up.

“So…this is…words escape me.” He brushes past you to pick up a Care Bear off your bed, taunting you with it. ShareBear looked so strange in Shawn’s tattooed grip, an odd juxtaposition of two things that brought you the most comfort. Granted, ShareBear really didn’t succeed at keeping you warm late at night.

“Give me that,” You say with a huff, reaching out to wrangle the bear away from him, tossing it unceremoniously on the floor. Throwing yourself on to your bed, you grimace at the squeaking of the springs. This was certainly mid-western “roughing it” at its most cliché. At some point you had become accustomed to the plush beds and obscenely high thread counts of high-end hotels. You’d become so spoiled that just the sight of your pill-y Beauty and the Beast sheets and bleach stained bath towels made you cringe. It also crossed your mind that you DEFINITELY weren’t sleeping in Disney sheets in high school and that your mother specifically chose those as a very rude, but very creative cockblocking measure. While you got to work kicking all of your stuffed animals off the bed, Shawn wandered about your room on his own. Quietly studying the photos of your middle school birthday parties, the saved movie stubs and concert tickets still stuck to your mirror, the participation trophies from JV volleyball. Suddenly, you felt a little vulnerable. When Shawn was in high school, he was already playing stadium tours with the likes of Taylor Swift. In your high school days, you were mostly consumed with binge watching Gossip Girl and eating raw cookie dough with your girlfriends. You had an exceedingly mediocre high school career and it felt glaringly evident as you saw your bedroom through Shawn’s eyes. “You’re loving this, aren’t you?”

“Knowing you, it’s not what I was expecting. You were so…innocent.” He turns so that you can see his bemused expression. “I mean who is this girl? I don’t think I know her.”

“Open the closet. Back right corner. Cardboard box marked “books”.” You point him in the right direction, already grinning to yourself knowing what he’ll find there. Shawn quickly unearths the box, carrying it to your bed to dump out the contents. As you expected, a half empty bottle of Sailor Jerry’s rolls out, along with several ancient, unsmoked joints, and a few other odds and ends you’d stashed away. While you reach for one of the joints, his fingers snatch something else out of the pile.

“Is this a cherry flavored condom? You hate cherry.” If he looked bemused before, he looks downright delighted now.

“Hence it being in the pile, my love. Who in the world wants a dick to taste like cough medicine?” You hop off the bed, a joint and matchbook in hand, headed for your window. “All of the strawberry ones, on the other hand, are long gone.”

His eyebrows raise comically high and you can only imagine what he’s picturing in that moment. You know you shouldn’t be leading him to believe you were some unapologetic slut in high school, considering that’s fairly far from the truth, but messing with his head is your all-time favorite hobby. Considering there’s nothing else to do with the rest of the night, he won’t be getting a break from your mind games. Lighting up the joint, you take a long, satisfying drag, blowing the smoke out into the black night sky. You pass it to him while he continues to absent mindedly tour your room like it’s an ancient antiquities gallery at the Met.

“Who’s this loser?” You glance over to see Shawn holding a polaroid of you and a short-lived high school boyfriend. A guy you’re pretty sure still works the concession stand at the local movie theater and never stopped scamming on underage chicks.

“Ohhhh, Chad, what a blast from the past.” You snatch the photo from his hand, giving it a faux adoring look. “He fingerbanged me in a McDonald’s parking lot, it was the worst.”

“You’re telling me you were a freak even back then, eh?” His smirk is growing by the second, pulling open your underwear drawer to peruse all of the embarrassing cotton panties plastered with Victoria’s Secret Pink logos and phrases. The way the joint is dangling from his lips causes a familiar stir between your legs, but you quickly remind yourself that your parents room is right across the hall.

“It was prom. Everyone gets romantic on prom night.” You shrug your shoulders with an eyeroll, plucking the joint from his lips. Looking him in the eyes while you inhale, you rise on to your tip toes and pull his face towards yours to bridge the absurd height difference. Holding the smoke in your mouth momentarily, you press your lips to his softly, letting the smoke drift from your tongue to his. Shawn groans into your mouth, deepening the kiss and casually backing you towards your double bed. But the night is young and you wriggle out of his grasp before your back can hit those Beauty and the Beast sheets. “A guy pays for your limo, you throw him a fingerbang.”

“I’ve been in several limos with you and there have been zero parking lot fingerbangs.” He looks genuinely disappointed, as if you haven’t straight up fucked him in one of said limos. However, his expression changes as he holds up a pair of green panties with the words “Irish Boys Only” written across the ass. “Oh really? I beg to differ.” Balling them up in his hands, he tosses them overhand into the small waste basket across the room. “That’s where those belong.”

“Hey! I could have worn those to Niall’s next show.” You’re already laughing before you can finish the sentence, knowing you’re playing with fire by making such a statement. Shawn pretends not to hear you, but conveniently steps over to the waste basket to ash the spent joint over the discarded panties. Throwing you a heated glance in the process, eyes narrowed but still bright. He turns his attention back to your closet, thumbing through all of the old clothes that still hadn’t made it to Goodwill. When his fingers stop on a mass of pale pink tulle, you pray he’ll keep moving right along. Instead, he hands the joint back to you once more and reaches in to liberate the dress from the depths of your closet. You swear that monstrosity hasn’t seen the light of day since that McDonald’s parking lot.

“Oh god, I DARE you to put this on.” A deep chuckle escapes him, thanks in part to the weed, and he reaches out to grab your hip. “I can’t explain it, but I need to see you in this dress. It just. I can’t. Look at this thing!” No, you don’t know what you were thinking when you bought that dress. The strapless, fitted bodice has far, far too many rhinestones and the tulle skirt is obnoxiously large. It almost has a “Cinderella dressed by a Drag Queen” vibe and your cheeks go a little red just looking at it. Normally you’d refuse, but you’re just high enough, just content enough, that you’re willing to put on that hideous dress just to let your boyfriend have a laugh. He made it through an American Thanksgiving with your family, so if this is the least you can do to make his night, it’s worth it.

“Fine.” You throw him a pout as a last-ditch effort, but he stands firm. As the slightest bit of vengeance, you take your time peeling off your sweater and shimmying out of your jeans. “You’re going to have to help me with this demon, you know.” You reach out to unzip the back of the dress and then stand up straight in just your bra and panties, arms held up in the air, motioning for him to lower the dress on top of you. He obliges, despite a bit of difficulty, and your arms and head eventually clear the mess of tulle. You pull the bodice in place, adjusting your breasts into the right placement and then turn around. “Zip me up, please.” His fingertips are tentative against the zipper, his thumb brushing over the exposed skin at the small of your back and sending shivers up your spine. It seems to take an achingly long time, but he finally drags the zipper all the way up, hands dropping to your waist to slowly turn you around.

“Let me see you, baby.” You’re not sure exactly how or why, but the energy in the room has markedly changed. It’s like by osmosis this dress delivered all of the nervous, tentative feelings you associated with being a teenage girl. Despite the yards of fabric, you felt naked under his gaze. His deep brown eyes traveled the length of you, his lips parted ever so slightly. Clearly, you’re not the only one being oddly affected by this dress. “You look…damn, I don’t know. This is making me weirdly soft?” He runs a hand through his hair, blowing out a deep breath as if you’re standing in front of him clad in dirty French lingerie rather than a Quinceañera reject. “Come here.” His strong hands pull you against him, moving up your sides and lifting your arms to bring them up over his shoulders. “Dance with me?”

You’re about to comment on the fact that there’s no music and maybe move to grab your phone and find a song, but before you can give it a moment’s thought, his hands are back on your waist, his forehead pressed against yours. Ever so softly, he starts humming the familiar tune of Can’t Help Falling in Love, knowing full well what that song does to you. Your body just about melts into him as he starts singing the words into your ear, the two of you swaying in the middle of your lavender walled bedroom. All at once your heart feels as though it’s going to burst out of your chest, your rib cage incapable of suppressing the unnatural amount of love you have for this man. You must have been a saint in a past life, there’s no other way of explaining how you could be so fucking lucky. It’s nearly impossible for you to let him finish the song, your lips making a trail across his jaw before you finally rest your head in the crook of his neck. You would have never pictured this moment, would have never considered doing anything with that dress other than burning it, but here you are. And you swear you’ve never been more in love.

As he finishes the song, you can’t decide whether you’re desperate to hear more of that beautiful voice or desperate to have his lips on yours. Instead, you leave it up to him to decide and aren’t entirely shocked when his lips meet yours. His kiss is balanced between tenderness and urgency, deeply reminiscent of the first kiss you two shared what feels like a lifetime ago. That’s what’s so surreal about standing in this bedroom, in this dress, talking about a time before Shawn. At the risk of sounding melodramatic, it’s hard for you to feel connected to a time in your life before he was a part of it. You certainly weren’t the type of woman to judge your entire existence by a man, but you could at least admit to yourself (and to the entire world, if they really wanted to know) that you weren’t fully yourself until you had him by your side. The way he’s cradling you in his arms now, you know the feeling is mutual. Barely breaking the kiss, he sighs against your lips, “You really do look gorgeous in this dress.” Your cheeks blush a deep red, as if you’re hearing this from your middle school crush rather than a man that’s seen every inch of your body a few thousand times. “And you know what else?”

You finally pull away to look up into his eyes, that signature curl falling forward onto his forehead. “Hmmm?”

He raises his hands to tuck your hair behind your ears, thumbs brushing against your cheeks. “You deserved to have been made love to that night.” You don’t break your gaze, but you’re pretty fucking surprised your knees haven’t totally given out. It’s hard to believe that these words, these delicate touches, are coming from the same man that made you listen to him burp the alphabet the day before and sometimes insisted on doggy style so he could watch the Maple Leafs highlights. You almost don’t notice one hand dropping from your face to linger on the zipper to your dress. “May I?”

You’re absolutely speechless, so a nod must suffice. He unzips the dress almost as slowly as he’d zipped it up not long before, taking his time, making you wait. As soon as the dress has fallen into a pink pool at your feet, he picks you up in one fell swoop, laying you gently on the bed that had been covered in stuffed animals not long before. He’s not far behind, hovering over you carefully, the springs of your bed whining in protest at the combined weight of your bodies. You ignore the sound and pull his face to yours anyways, alternating between slow, lingering kisses and the needier, hungrier variety. Oddly, as though you really have regressed to being teenaged again, you could absolutely settle for just an all-night makeout session. There’s something so intoxicating about the taste of his mouth and the feeling of his solid chest pressing against yours, you just never want that feeling to end. Of course, the fire between your legs vehemently disagrees with that sentiment, aching to be touched and filled in every possible way. As always, he manages to read your body (i.e. the way your hips keep arching into his seeking friction) and he responds in kind. His lips start making their descent down your throat, grazing across your collarbone, only stopping briefly at the top of the cups of your bra to rid you of the offending garment. Just as he’s about to take a nipple into his mouth, you stop him. “Your shirt. Can you take it off?” You’re itching for skin to skin contact, the pleading tone evident in your voice. Sitting up briefly, he pulls the henley over his head, your eyes immediately glued to his abs as they appear before you. Instinctively, your right hand slips down your stomach to touch yourself at the sight of him, but he catches your hand at the last possible second.

“Let me take care of you, honey,” He chuckles, knowing all too well how impatient you get. Kissing the back of your hand, he pins it above your head, resuming his pathway down your body. The warmth of his tongue encases your nipple, followed by the grazing of his teeth. It elicits a moan out of you, loud enough that you can barely hear his hushed voice. “Babe, you can’t be loud.” There’s a severity in his voice but you can see the smile pulling at the corner of his lips. He lives to drive you wild, and even if he doesn’t want to clue your family in on what he’s doing to you, he can’t help but be satisfied with drawing those noises out of you. Seemingly in direct opposition to his warning, his fingers find their way under your panties, pulling them aside and running up and down your already slick folds and teasing your clit. It’s nearly impossible for you to keep your mouth shut, but somehow you manage, keeping it to a quiet gasp as his first finger enters you. You’re already wondering how the hell you’re going to stay quiet as his finger curls upwards inside of you, when you feel his tongue begin to trace your clit, adding insult to injury. Gritting your teeth, you swear you can feel him smiling against your pussy, already smug with how you’re coming undone before he’s really gotten started. You’re about to protest when he removes his finger, but he quickly replaces it with two, pumping them into you slowly, stretching you in preparation of what’s to come. His mouth continues its assault on your clit, alternating between gentle licks and sucking until your eyes roll back in your head. You’ve never talked about it, but you’re fairly certain he has a habit of tracing his name on your clit. His full name. Over and over. It isn’t long before you can feel your orgasm building, your throat almost burning as you try to stifle your moans. He holds your hips to the bed, his biceps bulging with the effort to keep your bucking at bay. While he may be able to squat 300lbs, he’s almost no match for your hips when his tongue is ravaging your clit that way. When it’s clear you can’t hold on any longer, he presses his fingers against that sacred place inside of you and ruthlessly sucks your clit, hard, until you come so hard your legs spasm and you have to bury your face into your pillow to stop from screaming out. Deviously, he flattens his tongue with one last lick as you start to come back down, causing a shudder to run through your entire body. Chest heaving, you glance down at him, shaking your head. “You’re such an asshole.” But the enormous, satisfied grin on your face contradicts your admonishment. “Get up here.” You crook your finger in a come-hither motion, already pulling at his arms to coax him back up your body. Ready to roll him over so that you can return the favor, he stops and pins your hands behind your head once more.

“You know how much I love that smart mouth of yours, but right now? I’m dying to be inside you.” Part of you wants to argue, wants the opportunity to showcase your own oral talents, but you can’t exactly deny that you’re equally as anxious to have him buried deep in your core. So instead, you nod a little too enthusiastically and frantically reach for his jeans. It’s a bit difficult to get rid of them, considering he’s already grinding into you and not allowing you much room to work with, but somehow you’re able to free him from all clothing. He manages to kick off his jeans and Calvins on to the pile of your discarded stuffed animals, quickly pulling your panties down to join them. Once again, you shamefully feel like a horny teenager, unable to keep your hormones in check. Surprisingly, he manages the restraint to slow down for a moment, one hand coming up to rest under your head. He gives you a long look, as though he’s trying to memorize your face in that moment, the placement of every freckle, the shape of your swollen lips, the dazed, post-orgasm look in your eyes. Pressing his forehead against yours, your lips barely brush. “I’m so in love with you. In case you didn’t know.” As you lift your chin to kiss him, you feel the slow, satisfying burn of him entering you. You have to swallow a moan as he inches his way inside, stopping only when he’d bottomed out. He stills for a moment, allowing you to adjust, before setting a slow and steady pace.

Raising your legs to wrap around him, you let one hand tangle in his hair while whispering sweet words of admiration and encouragement in his ear. “God, you make me feel so good. So, so, so good.” These words urge him to increase his pace ever so slightly, but your childhood bed immediately objects, squeaking with all of its might. He freezes on top of you, using every ounce of strength not to return right back to his thrusts. “It’s okay, it’s okay. We just have to go slow.” He takes a deep breath and nods in agreement, returning to his former pace, trying to be as slow and deliberate as he can to appease your mattress. Several minutes pass as you grind into one another carefully, the friction still immensely gratifying. Regardless, you need more, you need to feel him pounding into you the way only he can. “Fuck this. Carpet?”

“Oh god, thank you,” He sighs in relief, picking you up without pulling out of you. Placing you carefully on the carpeted floor, he instantly plunges into you with the speed you’re both craving. Not expecting this, you cry out his name without thinking. This time he doesn’t stop his movements, but he does bring up a hand to cover your mouth. “If you do that, it defeats the purpose of us being on the floor.” Nevertheless, he thrusts directly into your g spot, knowing full well you’re not going to be able to keep your composure when he does that. Rather than letting out another cry, you stop yourself by sinking your teeth right into the swallow tattoo on the hand covering your mouth. Not hard enough to draw blood or leave a lasting mark, just enough to teach him a lesson. However, the joke is on you as the bite only spurs him on, his hips driving into yours with renewed energy.

Incidentally, you’ve reached a point of such reckless abandon that you don’t care who hears you. You couldn’t care less whether your screams woke up the entire family, or the entire neighborhood for that matter. Your parents could have easily let you stay in a hotel as you’d begged to. So truthfully, they were getting what they bargained for. What did they expect from their adult daughter and her fucking underwear model boyfriend? There was no way a noisy mattress and Beauty and the Beast sheets were ever going to stop you two from finding an opportunity to bang. Chanting Shawn’s name, quietly at first but growing louder, you dig your nails into his back hoping that will somehow stop you from full on shouting. You can tell by the way the veins in his biceps are pulsing and the set of his jaw that he’s not going to be able to hold out much longer. Needing release for both of you, he brings his thumb to your clit, massaging it in quick circles until he feels the telltale sign of your orgasm as your walls contract violently around him. That’s more than enough to bring his release, as your name falls from his lips with one long moan as he fills you. Weak, he lets himself collapse on top of you, still twitching inside of you as your sweaty chests heave together, desperate for air. Once you’ve both had a chance to breathe, you pull him in for a long, appreciative kiss. “I’m so in love with you too, in case you didn’t know.” He smiles against your lips, returning the kiss until you both hear someone shutting the bathroom door down the hallway.

“I’m not going to be invited back after this, am I?” He laughs quietly, reluctantly moving off of you and breaking your connection. Carefully, he pulls you up off the floor, taking a minute to inspect the rug burns on your back. “Oh honey, I’m so sorry, does it hurt?” As he gingerly runs his fingers down your reddened back, you try to hide a wince.

“It was worth it, trust me.” You reassure him with one more loving kiss before taking his hand to pull him back into bed with you. “And yes, you’ll be invited back. They know we’re a package deal now. They can’t deny that you make me very, very happy.” Curling up together in those old, scratchy sheets and looking upwards to the glow in the dark stars on the ceiling, you can’t help but feel overwhelmingly thankful. Completely exhausted, you snuggle into his chest, letting out one last yawn as you prepare for sleep to overtake you.

“Babe?” You assumed he’d already fallen asleep, but you manage to let out a hum to let him know you’re still listening. “I think I love American Thanksgiving.” You can’t help but giggle softly into his chest, giving him a soft love bite.

“Oh yeah? Just wait until Fourth of July…”

tagging @fourtristattoos for boyfriend!week

#shawn mendes #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes fic #warning: smut #fourtristattoosspring

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